RockStars Corner
by MsKittyCullen
Summary: Sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll. Pills, cocaine and birth control. Welcome to Rockstars: if you have the money, we have the girl. Full summary inside. ExB. Lemons.
1. Welcome to RockStars

**RockStars Corner**

_By MsKittyCullen_

**Disclaimer: **Stephanie Meyer owns everything Twilight.

Inside summary: Bella was another runaway - just like the rest of the girls who lived in the house. And, just like the rest of them, she unwillingly stumbled into the prostitute lifestyle. As she became pinned down with friendships and the junk that came with them, the hopes of escaping gradually narrowed until the thought became nothing more than a dream. When she meets Edward, she's too ashamed to tell him who she really is in fear of him casting her away like all men do. Can he save her from her nightmare, or will he just disappoint her like she expects?

**WARNING: Contains strong language, violence, graphic drug abuse and lemons - Don't say I didn't warn you.**

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_A/N:Special thanks to my go-to girl: Ohgeekyone. She's wonderful, she always makes me feel better about my work and she is ever so supportive. Cheers me dears! :D_

_Also, CapriciousC and Kaydee1005. Thank you so much, especially with all the American phrases! You really helped out a lot!_

_These girls made this chapter what it is. _

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**Chapter One - Welcome to RockStars **

_I fell into the street,_

_Poison in my veins,_

_Clambered to my feet_

_and into the night again._

**Laura Marling.**

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"Thanks, I had a real nice time..." Mr. Yorkie told me - bashfully - before we entered the main room of the house where the payment would take place.

I just nodded; I never liked making conversation with the customers.

I'd been used once again.

As I sat down on the cold wooden floor, I noticed there was another run in my stockings. I sighed, _shit, _not again. This meant I would have to buy some more soon - I didn't want to mend them again. Jesus, I didn't know what the point was. He would come back again, it'd be one strong wave of déjà vu, and afterwards I would think the exact same words: new stockings.

I looked up in the ill-lighted room. It held a strong stale smell of smoke with a hint of marijuana. It wasn't the most welcoming of smells but after a while you got used to it. Besides, if you were in my position, you really had no other choice.

I lifted my leg up and rested my chin on my right kneecap. I watched every move that Mr. Yorkie made. He seemed a lot more relaxed as he walked out of the dark living room towards Sam to pay the price. He didn't look at me once since the mumbling earlier - not many of them do. I always thought that if I did something like that I would feel ashamed, disgusted and angry with myself. But I doubted they felt any of that, except maybe ashamed. And that's a huge maybe. This was Mr. Yorkie's third time with me, and I had begun to learn what he liked and how he worked; but that was all I needed to know.

I could hear his hushed voice in the doorway and Sam's gruff laughter - it reeked of subtle repugnance.

"That's so generous of you!" Sam's voice boomed. I couldn't quite make out Mr. Yorkie's response. The man seemed shy. Most newcomers were like that in Sam's presence as he is a tall, hefty man with broad shoulders and had a distinct look about him that could intimidate a person to the core. At first, I thought his features were mildly attractive but now, I found most things about him nauseating.

I heard the door slam and I relished in the slight draft of the outside world that had blown into this stuffy house. We never got to go out for long as work usually ended in the mid hours of the morning. I hoped Mr. Yorkie would be my last client.

Mr. Yorkie must have been a businessman. I could tell because he always wore a suit and he was usually clean-shaven. I also knew he was married - he thought I didn't know, but it wouldn't have mattered if I knew anyway. I stumbled onto this fact simply because the second time I saw him, I caught him surreptitiously sliding his golden band off of his finger and placing it into his pocket. Bastard. I suppose that piece of information shocked me the most because he didn't seem like the rest of the men; the rest of them were relatively _lonely _men.

Every time I had _tended_ to him, he stunk of some brand of whisky. It wasn't a surprise occurrence and it happened with most of our customers. What was odd was the funny feeling I had. I felt that he shouldn't have been here. He seemed too quiet, too harmless - nothing like the rest. Sam even thought he was a cop in disguise at one point and had to make sure he was legit - don't ask me how.

I watched as Sam casually strolled his way back into the room and sat down on the old leather chair in the corner. He rummaged through his pocket and took out his roll ups, tobacco, filters and a small bag of grass.

Sam chuckled to himself, "That man's such a pussy. You should have seen his face when I smacked him on the back. Anyone would have thought I had a meat cleaver in my hand." He started to ensemble his joint. I remained impassive to his comment. He knew I hated him but he didn't really care. "Good work, Swan. You can really make a guy come back for more." To accompany this he sent me a creepy wink which maybe I found to be comforting at one time.

I gave him a scornful glare to which he laughed lightly again.

"Love you too babe." He stared at me with his mucky brown eyes, and they swept over my body.

"Just fuck off Sam," I told him through gritted teeth.

He callously laughed once more and started to roll up the joint between his forefingers and thumbs. My eyes drifted over to the _Scarface_ poster on the wall - the house was plastered with movie posters. I figured Sam just wanted to show that he was cultivated so it made him look somewhat intelligent. Bullshit.

"Do you want one?" Sam asked me. I just shook my head. Sam was always pushing drugs on us.

I got up and I padded over to the old mirror that was screwed into the wall. I had nothing else to do. I combed my fingers through my brown locks and straightened out my sheer black dress; I hated the fact you could see my bright green-laced underwear beneath the fabric. It screamed cheapness, but that was exactly what we were and we supported every cliché that went with our profession.

My eyes caught some movement in the back of the room. My heart welled up with guilt like it always did when I saw her. She was the reminder of everything about us that we hated. It was Jessica - clearly fucked up. She leaned on the filthy wall behind her and her head swayed about. Her pupils were dilated, and it was like she was high up in her own world where there were no reminders of what she really was. Jessica was so quiet, and she was the youngest. Her innocence oozed out from every cell of her too thin body and her mousy brown hair made her look younger than she really was.

I heard the click of Sam's lighter, and the flame collaborated with the end of his joint.

"For fuck's sake," I breathed and clenched my eyelids together. I could feel Sam's attention move back to me.

"What's wrong now?" He gruffly said. He didn't care what was wrong, he just felt obliged to ask.

I opened my eyes and they stamped onto Sam and his oblivious, careless expression. "Jesus Christ Sam, you've got her on smack, already?"

"Look, kid," I scowled when he called me that, "it's her life - if she wants to do it, she can do."

"She's too young."

"Iz," _I hated when he called me that, too, _"you started out the exact same age as her, and look at you now: balling out all the abuse and glares that you want. So I think she'll be just fine." I pursed my lips at his stupidity. This was Sam all over; he only cared about one thing - Sam.

"She'll be fine. Now shut the fuck up because I don't need this when I'm having a break." I furrowed my eyebrows together and stared at him. He just simply dismissed me and turned around to the old record player we had to create an 'atmosphere'. He put _Tainted Love _on; I believed it was the Gloria Jones version. The girls and I always joked about his gay taste in music, and if it wasn't for his harsh looks and the things he had done, I was sure any of us would have thought he was. He liked to put either 70s/80s music on or electro/techno. It depended upon what mood he was in.

I slouched back onto the floor and had a cigarette. I hated it around here; it was the same thing day in and day out. My eyes only lifted off the floor when Jessica stumbled to get a glass of water. Christ, she looked awful.

The sound of footsteps down the stairs obtained everybody's attention and my stare lifted to the door of the room, expecting somebody to open it.

Rosalie busted in, wearing a silky royal blue slip. One of her spaghetti straps was hanging over her shoulder adding to her dishevelled appearance. I stood straight up and walked beside her. She clasped her hand with mine and we leant on the substandard, fold up table that was against the wall as her client walked through the room - once again, no eye contact.

"You okay?" I whispered, bringing my face closer to hers.

"Sure," she replied, with a small smile. "Although, this one was a bit rough. You know how I bruise like a peach, and I definitely know tomorrow I'll look like crap."

"Ugh, these men are fucking disgusting," I sighed.

"How was yours?"

I thought back to half an hour ago, his hands scraping over my body and the scent of cologne and whisky - the thought made me shudder. If only you saw his beady eyes; he stared at my bare skin like I was an all-you-can-eat buffet.

"Just bearable," I replied. Rosalie squeezed my hand, and I felt the guilt traveling up my veins once again - I shouldn't be claiming Rose's sympathy. She was the favorite, we all knew it, and Rosalie and I both had the same feelings toward our jobs.

"Two-fifty," Sam stated. Our attention moved swiftly toward Rosalie's client who was stood in front of Sam, who was still nonchalantly sitting in the old leather chair. I let my gaze shrink to the ground because I hated listening to the business deals, especially about Rosalie.

"But, Sam, you said it was gonna be two hundred," Rose's client moaned. I heard Rosalie exhale an irritated breath - she hated being haggled in front of.

"Was she good?" Sam casually asked.

"Well, yeah, she was amazin-"

"Two-fifty." He stamped the words down.

A pregnant pause lingered in the air. It felt uncomfortable just to be stood there, listening to the exchange.

"Sam, you told me two hundred and that's what I'm paying." Rose's client was sticking to his guns. He was a lanky guy, dark hair but graying around the sides, he had a long nose and obvious wrinkles around the eyes. No wedding ring. No shock there. He had a slimy aura about him which made you want to run for a shower and scrub yourself ten times over with the world's finest soaps.

Sam lightly sighed and a wry smile claimed his face. He left his joint on an ashtray and stood up to slowly walk over to Rosalie's client.

"...Look, Sam...it's just you said two hundred, man, and you know...I was ready to pay two hundred..." Sam was nearly nose-to-nose with this client. We all knew what was going to happen. Jessica was sat in an enclosed position, trying to ignore what was going on and Rosalie just huffed; she had seen this one too many times.

"Sam, can't we negotiate?" The client suggested. The smile which hung so tightly on Sam's face just seemed to glow in excitement as those words came from this man's mouth.

"Sure we can negotiate." His eyes amplified at the end of this sentence.

I held my breath because I knew what was coming. Sam sniffed the stuffy air and struck his right leg back a step. My eyes flinched when he banged his forehead into the tender end of the man's nose.

One swift action.

Just like that.

Rose cringed at the action the same way I did, and when we looked up we saw blood gushing in narrow trails down his face.

"Shit, Sam," the man loudly said. We could almost feel his pain just by the pitch of his voice.

"Just pay him," Rosalie snapped. I looked up at her, watching as she twisted the ends of her golden waves around her fingers nervously. Sam just seemed as relaxed as he did before he hit him.

He picked up his joint again and took another drag, "I'm sorry, bro. I just don't know what came over me." His deep laughter bellowed out. "But I'm afraid you're going to have to pay up now, and there's another downside, brother." I felt my eyes squint at the tone of his voice, the sick bullshitting kind that had sugar thrown on the top. "You see, I hate losing my temper." Sam took another drag. "So, it's gone up to three hundred bro. I really hate to do this to you but you need to understand when to shut that fucking trap of yours." Rosalie sashayed over to Sam and he hung his arm around her whilst he drove the joint to her perfect pink lips. She inhaled the smoke deep into her lungs and she gently closed her eyes, holding it there for a few seconds and then exhaling with a lazy smile stuck on her face.

The man was holding onto his nose, trying to wipe away the blood.

"Take this as a lesson. Don't try and mess around with me or you'll...look like shit." He chuckled once again by the end of the sentence and pointed to the blood dripping down onto the man's shirt. "See? Lesson learned."

"Fuck, Sam. Fine, two-fifty." The client hastily took his brown wallet out and started to take out green notes.

Sam smirked once again. "Brother, are you fucking deaf?" He loudly said and the man looked up, nerves overwhelming his eyes.

"When I say three hundred, I mean three hundred. Do you think I'm kidding around?" Sam asked. I sighed - I hated being in these situations. I knew that Sam could be an absolute jerk...actually that was putting it extremely lightly. He was a _lot more_ than a jerk. But this man was a clueless asshole who was walking on a fine line, but the way he acted it was as if he was walking on stable concrete. He stared at Sam and I could have sworn if he stared a moment longer we would have been burying a body that night.

It was not like it would have been the first time.

"Stop being an asshole and give him the money," I sighed. All eyes stared at me but I successfully kept my feet planted firmly on the ground.

The man looked back at his wallet and finally caved into giving him the extra fifty.

"It's nice doing business," Sam said whilst receiving the money. "But I have some handy advice for you, bro." We all watched Sam as he intensely stared back at the client with the frightening glare that so many people had been on the receiving end of. "If you ever try that on me again, I will pin you down and cut your kneecaps off."

I rolled my eyes at this threat because I doubted he would follow through, but he certainly shook the customer up and Rosalie's client left without another word.

Laughter erupted from Sam again and after a few seconds everyone seemed to act like the little incident didn't happen.

"Hey, Sam, we got anymore smack?" Rose asked him whilst she was grooming herself in front of the mirror. I squinted at her plea; why did she need some again?

"C'mon Rose, you'll be fine until tomorrow," I told her, trying to persuade her but I knew it was hopeless.

"Uh, Bells, I admire how easy it is for you, but I'm gonna be honest. I need another hit. Now." In her reflection I saw her lick her lips in desperation.

Sam already had the key to the tiny chest that he had left underneath the table.

"We're just about out of it, baby," Sam replied. Rose's blue eyes widened.

"We're out?" she repeated and turned around to look at him with a distraught expression as though her whole world had crashed around her.

"Afraid so, kid," he answered, and then looked up at her. "Hey, baby, don't look so pissed." He finally opened up the chest.

"Well, Sam, what the fuck am I gonna do? You saw that skanky bastard who just left. He was fucking rough - really rough."

"He ain't fucking coming back Rosie baby, I can assure you," Sam gently said.

"He was a dick..." I sighed. "Sam, I really am getting sick of that type of customer."

"Iz, what the hell am I meant to do about it? I'm not asking how they fuck, that's for sure. Anyway, that's your job." He brought out a packet of something from the chest and started to arrange it on the table.

"I hate my job..." I muttered under my breath, but Sam heard.

"Yes, Swan, we know you do. That's all we ever hear from you." He turned around and looked at me with a patronizing grin. "Now, be a good little girl and take your medicine." I glared at him and then at the table, which had white rows on a mat.

"Sam, can we stop talking about all this bullshit - what am I gonna do without my hit?" Rose asked, sounding generally concerned which was worrying. Jesus, she was stuck in a rut.

"Rosie, baby, hold your horses. Bill's coming around tomorrow." He made another row.

"Tomorrow isn't good enough Sam!" Rose was starting to get aggravated as she took a couple of steps towards Sam.

"Rose, calm down, you'll cope. I know you, you're strong," I told her, trying to help. She just looked at me like she didn't know what to do with herself.

More footsteps were heard banging down the stairs. The last girl was about to walk through the door and I wondered what greasy client she would bring with her. The door soon swung open and Lauren appeared, wearing the shortest denim skirt I had ever seen, with a tiny scarlet top that showed her cleavage and her horse shoe tattoo on her midriff. But it seemed like she hadn't been entertaining.

"What's all the noise about?" Lauren snapped at the two. Lauren liked to think she was top dog because she was the oldest. Rose and I tried to ignore her but sometimes her curt comments could cross the line.

"Shortage on gear," I answered bluntly. Lauren cocked one eyebrow up and turned to Rosalie, not looking at all impressed.

"Shit, Rose, you're the bitch who takes most of it. That's what you get."

My eyes flickered back to Rose - the term,_ if looks could kill_, came to mind.

"I'm not the only one, Lauren, and you know it. Look at the newbie, she's royally fucked. And don't you say for one moment you haven't taken any in the past week," Rosalie retorted.

Lauren put her hands on her hips. "Well, sure, Hale. I'll admit to taking a couple of hits throughout the week, but c'mon, you're the true addict in this place. Jesus, look how desperate you are, you'll take it from anyone, anywhere. You'll be AIDs ridden in no time." Lauren said nonchalantly.

"Fuck you Lauren!" Rose spat out. I felt my lips purse together. I hated seeing Rose getting shit for the amount of smack she took, even if it was obscene.

"C'mon girls. Calm down," Sam said, trying to defuse the tension. "Why don't you have some of this, Rose, you'll feel better." He gestured with his hand to the substance. Rose looked down at it and sighed; it was obvious that she would take the substitute.

"You up for it, Bells?" Rose asked me. I looked down and hesitated.

"Yes, she is." Sam answered for me.

"This stuff fucks with your head," I complained.

"So?" Sam said. "You get fucked every night and you're complaining because of this?" He stared at me with his belittling eyes. I hated it when he did that.

"Shut up Sam. I'm fine without it."

"Yeah, and what a trooper you are, but sooner or later I'll be getting complaints that you're too cold for the customers and you'll be out of clients in no time." He said it like he was warning me, but he didn't give a shit about warnings. I knew that.

I sighed once more, showing my white flag. I bent my head down and hovered over the mat. I pressed my forefinger on my right nostril, picked up the straw and snorted the powder. It felt like it had been a few minutes but it must have been more, and my head was still drifting over the table letting the first effects roll upon me.

I breathed in the stuffy air that surrounded me, and I felt the euphoric rush which sent me on a one way ticket to cloud nine. All my senses went to marshmallow and a silly grin that came from nowhere took over my face. It seemed like the best place to be in the world was in that room. I didn't have to listen to anyone; I didn't really have to be there. Because the real me, who was filled with worry, angst and mood swings was drifting off out of the window having a vacation somewhere. This was an entirely different being occupying my body and it soothed every memory and concern.

When I finally lifted my head up to collide my eyes with Rosalie's, I caught my exact feelings mirrored on her face. I knew what I did was wrong, but it didn't seem to matter because sniffing that white line of ego made me feel like the best of the best.

After five more minutes of just standing there, taking in everything, Sam finally broke the silence and addressed Rose. "Feeling better now?"

"Much," she concurred. "I'm on the express train to Rockstar's Corner."

Rosalie always came out with lines like this, sometimes meaningful, sometimes just a few words strung together when she was high. I didn't mind because at least she was still talking. As corny as it sounded - she was the best thing in my life and without her I wouldn't have been able to function. But at that time, I knew one thing: while she was still here I would be, and it was crystal clear that we were two girls whose lives were stuck in a lost property box and nobody could claim us. We were unwanted.

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**Thank you for reading. **

**I'd be interested to know what you think about fics that have a prostitute Bella. Do you like them or are you not fussed?  
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	2. I Speak when Spoken to

**Disclaimer: **Stephanie Meyer owns everything Twilight.

**WARNING: **This chapter contains graphic drug abuse.

**A/N: Thank you so much to everybody who has added RockStars Corner on your Alerts and Favourites. It means a lot to me.**

**Also a massive thanks to OhGeekyOne, Brandy_D and Ashleigh for helping me make this chapter perfect. You are all truly wonderful!**

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**Chapter Two - I Speak When Spoken to**

_The night plays games _

_And the people they come and go _

_Well, they trade in their pieces _

_For a late-night ride on your rodeo _

_**Ryan Adams**_

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I groaned.

I had that paranoid feeling that you've wasted your day in bed, and you know that you're going to regret it later.

_I did wake up late. _In fact, I woke up at precisely 4.10pm. I distinctly heard Sam's deep voice booming through the floorboards into the bedroom. I also heard his smarmy friends bantering amongst each other.

I lived in the house that never slept; there were always plenty of people over.

Contrary to my wishes, the previous night I had one more client to tend to before my shift could end. Mr. Harris was a regular who had been coming around three or fours times a month for the past year. He was fifty-something and balding on the top of his head. As a client - I didn't like him. As a man...I disliked him even more.

Mr. Harris always paid generously, so of course Sam liked him.

I sat up in my bed, feeling the head rush that happily occupied that movement. I only had a lightweight sheet over me and I grasped it over my body as I felt the chill of the house uncomfortably making the hairs on my arms stand linear. After a few seconds, I became aware of my right nostril feeling sore. My nose was blocked and I badly needed a tissue.

Drugs were the shittiest friends you could ever have – it was like having a friend that came to your party, wrecked your house at the peak of the excitement, and then left you early the next morning with the aftermath. Thankfully, I didn't let drugs come to my party that often.

Rosalie always said that I didn't have an addictive personality. She was right in a way; I was not addicted to drugs. Well, I didn't have the monsters for drugs. Y'know, the type that makes your blood boil and your head crave for one more hit.

I was a smoker, though.

I had cut down over the past few months, but in this line of work, you really needed to be on _something_.

Rosalie, on the other hand, couldn't live without being on some sort of substance. Mainly, heroin. Heroin was her lover, her best friend, and her enemy.

In her world, there was nothing better than smack. She'd gotten so used to the euphoria that went with the drug; she needed regular hits just to feel normal.

As I sat up in the double bed, I heard Rosalie's voice downstairs. She sounded a lot happier this morning; her voice rang a few octaves higher than the sinister tone she'd used last night.

That reminded me of the first few months living at the house. That was when Rosalie was more fresh-faced (if I could use that word for a woman who was selling her body) and active. She was kind to me from the moment I had arrived. Maybe she felt sorry for me or maybe she was sick of Lauren's company. I didn't know.

She was really supportive when I found out what I had to do to stay at the house. She used to tell me that things would get better, and that my only options were either working for Sam or catching pneumonia on the streets. She knew what it was like on the streets, and I _definitely_ knew what it was like on the streets. I could still remember sleeping in public toilets, lying on the grimy tiles that stank of urine. They were the better nights.

But, coming to the realization of what I had to do to survive was the worst feeling I've ever felt.

Sam tried to calm me down with his manipulative words but he just painted over the reality of what we really were. He told me that a lot of girls did it and that I shouldn't be ashamed. He told me he couldn't bear seeing me out on the cold streets by myself. He was such a lying bastard; he always says a lot of things

I didn't have my first client until a few weeks after I joined the house. It was the same with every girl - your first time would be Sam's most profitable. Some men are fucking sick.

They were the men who liked to see you bleed after banging you. The man I had didn't stop to ask how I was doing. I remembered it hurting so much at the start, and he loved to hear the sound of my pained moans. After he was done with me, he just left me there on the bed. No words were exchanged. I already had started crying half way through he was driving my body into the mattress. When he left, more devastating tears sprinted down my face. I felt ruined.

I doubt I will ever forget that night.

I sighed as I clambered out of bed and stood on the worn grey carpet, feeling the rough fuzz brushing beneath my toes. I badly needed a shower – I stunk and I still felt like each client had left their repulsing presence on my body. So, I grabbed my flannel robe and journeyed to the bathroom, trying to be as quick as possible, as I didn't want to bump into one of Sam's so called 'friends'.

When I reached the bathroom, I immediately cursed under my breath.

I knew that it was Lauren who had left the bathroom in such a pig sty: damp towels, pools of water on the floor, and all of her make-up spread out on the windowsill.

I swung the door open. "Lauren!" I shouted.

There was no reply.

I could only hear the raucous laughter of downstairs.

"Lauren, I'm not cleaning this shit up, so don't complain when Sam gets pissed off!"

There was still no reply. I huffed. She wouldn't have listened to me anyway.

I shoved the hamper against the door, since there was no lock. I hoped that Rosalie heard the shower from downstairs and made sure nobody interrupted me.

After my shower, I practically ran through the hallway, passing the _Kill Bill _and _The Godfather_ posters. When I was safely inside the room, I stripped off my robe, and got changed into my sea-green dress, which was one of my very few daytime clothes; I loved the way the dress flowed down to my kneecaps. It felt good not to be semi-naked.

Not that Sam would've been happy about it.

Knowing that Sam would want to see my presence sometime in the day, I reluctantly sloped down the creaky stairs, conscious that all eyes would've be on me when I entered the room.

And not in a good way.

I hesitantly nudged the door open and peered into the room.

Rosalie was dancing in the middle of room. Her movements were trance-like and all the men were watching her intently. It was like she was hypnotizing them. I could see it in their warped faces that they thought at any moment she would've pulled her tank-top off to entertain them all.

I cleared my throat after a couple of seconds of standing in the doorway.

A few moments later, I'd finally caught Rosalie's attention even though it was delayed. But I was used to that.

"I wondered when you were going to get up!" Rosalie chirped.

She was in a good mood, which was mildly comforting.

"Well, I was pretty tired," I mumbled back.

I wasn't usually lazy, but last night was frustrating. I found that going to sleep was a hard task, since my mind was still reeling from the coke. It must have taken me at least three hours until I got some shuteye because I remembered the golden glint of dawn breaking through the old netting that was hung on our window.

I looked around the room, taking in the faces.

Billy was sitting on the old leather chair with his drooling smile watching over me. He never made it a secret that he wanted to bed us all, in his own twisted ways.

Billy or Bill, was one of Sam's 'business partners' who liked to wear loud Hawaiian shirts and khakis. By day, he worked at KFC, but his main source of income was dealing drugs. He made me feel sick - I hated Billy the most. I wasn't fond of most of Sam's guys, but Bill was old enough to be my dad.

There was only one thing that Sam was adamant on with his friends: no freebies. Thank God. That was about the only good quality Sam had. The guys knew the phrase, 'don't touch what you can't afford,' perfectly.

Sam eyed me in a disagreeable manner. "Iz, you look like a fucking Sunday school teacher." I collected a cigarette from the table and lit it before I even contemplated on answering him.

"Thanks, Sam, I'm _so _glad you noticed." I sent him a sardonic smile. He laughed lightly at my tone.

"Hey, she looks beautiful in whatever she wears," Rosalie said in my defense. She then stumbled onto the floor, and looked up at me and smiled delicately.

I took another drag.

"You sure got that right." Billy eyed me and then winked – _ugh - _the action propelling shudders down my spine and I could feel my eyes flinch at his words. My reaction provoked laughter from Jared and Paul, the other guys in the room. They were seated on the other sofa; which looked so old and worn out. I was sure at one point it was a rosy red rather than the vile brown it was now.

"Don't encourage her; the customers won't go for that," Sam declared. Sam's words panged the wrong strings in my body and I could feel my fists instinctively clench.

"Yeah, I know, Sam," I answered, irritated. "We all know what sick bastards arrive through that fucking door." I gestured my hand over to that metallic door at the back of the kitchen.

I didn't want to stick around for him to answer back, saying something along the lines of 'It's your job, Iz,' so I stormed into the kitchen. It was my original intention to make myself some food as my stomach had been growling since I got out of the shower.

The kitchen was joined to the main room and it didn't have a door to separate it – just a washed out green curtain. I swung the curtain behind me with vehemence, only to be faced with dirty dishes scattered along the countertops, and jelly-like substances smeared everywhere.

I rolled my eyes and stubbed my cigarette into an ashtray. My next mission of the day was to find something to eat, since I knew for a fact that the kitchen was near empty because everyone always seemed to have a bad case of the munchies. I started rooting through the cabinets, seeing what I could pull together. It was a difficult task.

When I decided on making the remains of the rice with some tinned tomatoes. (Not something I would've been overly-enthusiastic to eat, but I was really, _really _hungry) Sam's think-with-their-dicks friends obviously thought that because the curtain was closed they could start talking about me like they were in a sound-proofed room.

"Fuck, is that bitch on the rag?" Obviously, that was Jared's voice as it had a rough edge to it, brought on by years of damage from all the smoke he consumed – far more than me.

"Well, some men like to bed moody girls, that's her selling point," Sam stated.

I wanted to block out the fact that they were talking about me like I was an object.

"Man, I think it's freakin' hot; she makes me hard just narrowing her come-to-bed eyes." I heard Paul say and then a few grumbles of laughter followed.

They probably thought he was joking, but I knew he had wanted to fuck me since day one. He had asked me numerous times - just to keep it between him and me. Of course, every time he asked I had fervently declined. I knew he wouldn't dare force me, but me saying no didn't stop him from asking me whenever he escorted me out into town.

Sam would never let me go into town by myself. He didn't particularly like anybody going into town by themselves – not since Victoria.

"Well, bro, unless you can cough up she's off limits." I snorted at Sam's comment. Money makes the world go round.

After I cooked my meal, I perched onto the counter and tucked into my meal. It wasn't the tastiest thing on the planet, but it was a rare treat to get to eat something remotely nice around here.

The pricks had exhausted their conversation about me and the other girls in the house and had somehow moved onto the topic of the film adaptation, _Of Mice and Men._

First, they talked about how they studied it in school, but of course, the conversation led down a different path. I could feel my eyes squint at every sexist remark they so 'imaginatively' made about the only female in the film.

"I would've given Curley's wife one. She was just asking to be mounted," Jared jeered.

"I know, but of course it's always the male's fault that she acts the way she does. If I was Curley I would have told her to get back to the fucking kitchen where she belonged," Billy's deep voice boomed and I heard Sam loudly laugh at his comment.

"Bro, you couldn't be more right. All women do these days is bitch and moan. Why can't they shut up and do what they're told?" Sam asked.

I sharply exhaled through my nose. I knew there was no point in saying anything. They didn't really care about what we had to say, but I could feel their comments grating on me.

"I think we're talking about the perfect woman here; the one who'll make us a three course dinner when we get home and then wait for us in the bedroom. But, of course, you can't get a wife without twenty-four hour nagging, and now they think they're equal and have a right to be earning as much as we do. I'm telling you, women just aren't as efficient as men are in the workplace; they're only good for one thing and I think we all know what that is," Billy said, more laughter followed.

"I'll tell you a good joke that I heard from Collin the other day. What do you say to a woman with two black eyes?" Jared asked in a highly amused tone. I took one last mouthful and slid the bowl vigorously across the counter.

I had lost my appetite.

"What?" Sam and Paul said in unison.

"Nothing. You already told the bitch twice."

As I re-entered the room, all I could hear was the incessant roaring of laughter from the four jerks, rolling on the sofa thinking that whatever they touched turned into gold.

I tried to hold my tongue, but it was itching to break free as my blood boiled by the unearthly sight of these men.

"That was funny, Jared. Who told you that one? Your girlfriend? Oh, shit, of course not...I forgot, you don't have one," I bit out. It couldn't have been helped; I was known in the house for saying things on impulse. It didn't get me anywhere.

I watched Jared's expression fall by my sickly sweet tone and the laughter started to calm - it made me feel slightly better_. _

Sam tried to muffle his laughter in the background, "Now, now, Iz, don't get into one of your moods. You need to learn to accept that we're all allowed to have our own opinions now and again," Sam told me, smug as hell.

I just scowled at him and leaned on the fold-up table, tempted to take another cigarette, but I decided to resist.

There was a sudden quietness in the room that made me feel awkward.

The silence was broken by Rosalie's mumbling. My head spun towards her fragile position on the ground. She was in a disorientated state, messing around with a Rubiks cube but not looking the slightest bit interested in it at all. I sighed and walked over to her.

"Where are the rest of the girls?" I asked Sam.

"Lauren's out and Jessica's upstairs," he answered nonchalantly. I crouched next to Rosalie.

"Rose…?" I gently asked. Her eyes lifted to meet mine, and her face beamed.

"Bells!" she replied, louder than I expected.

I smiled back. "Let's get ready." I told her softly and stretched my arm out to help her get up.

"Please do," Sam cut in, "I don't want to see you in that dress tonight." Billy let out one of those 'Ooo' noises and I heard two hands high-fiving in the background.

My teeth grinded together and I wanted to shout every profanity I knew at him. Instead, I did the clever thing and kept quiet. Whatever I did say, I knew it would have been a waste since they all loved a reaction.

I looked over at Sam - he was still sporting that smug smile of his. He made me so mad at times and what he'd just said reinforced all the memories of everything shitty he'd ever done to me.

I wished I could tell him how I felt about my situation and how he made me feel.

I wished that it would sink in.

But I knew he wouldn't give me the time of the day.

I grasped onto Rosalie's hand and led the way upstairs. I felt relieved just to be out of that room.

The next time we would be downstairs, we would be ready to be a man's object for the night.

"You look _very_ nice this evening, Iz. I'm sure you'll perform well tonight." Paul 'complimented' me, but he didn't look at my face once.

I pursed my lips when he said 'Iz' - they got that from Sam.

He was still slouched on the same sofa when I had emerged downstairs. His eyes were greedily watching over me.

I once again folded my arms over the new outfit I was wearing: a slinky, black slip with white lace embroidered around the hem and breast.

Most of my work clothes looked like this. Rosalie looked exactly the same. Except she could pull off 'sexy' better than me.

Paul was still eying me, tempting me to scream something back.

I decided to ignore his existence, but my decision to do so was exciting Paul.

"I thought you were the educated one out of the lot? I guess your mother must've forgotten to teach you manners,' He said, then smiled conceitedly.

My heart sunk when he brought up my mom. Why did he think he had a right to talk about her? He knew nothing. It was personal and it crossed _all_ the lines.

I sharpened my eyes.

"Fuck you, Paul!" I snarled.

His eyes illuminated and he opened his mouth to say something.

But by that time I had stormed out of the room and into the kitchen. I had better things to do than be harassed by a moron.

When I walked in, Sam raised his eyebrows at my appearance and immediately shut his phone.

"You have a customer coming around in exactly thirty minutes, babe," he told me. I bit my bottom lip - that was early.

I tried to shake off the nerves. It was pathetic how it still got to me.

"You need something? I got some gear with your name on it," he suggested.

"No, I don't want anything," I curtly told him.

I wanted to preoccupy my mind. I collected all the dishes and stationed them next to the sink; washing up would be the perfect past time.

"Bella, you need something." It wasn't a suggestion.

"I'm sure I'll be fine without being fucked up and feeling like selling my body is the best job in the world," I told him monotonously.

He smirked at my comment and I continued to fill up the basin with hot water.

"Iz, it's clear that you're a wreck of nerves. You still can't handle it, can you kid?" I could hear his smile broadening.

He was right, I still couldn't handle it. The customers made me feel sick. I never found any of them attractive and they made me do things I just...didn't want to do.

My stomach knotted up by the thought.

I still felt Sam's stare on me. "Hmm, there's no way you can survive tonight," he stated, like he was examining me.

Something about his tone of voice warned me not to look up, so I kept my eyes fixated on the dishes.

"I'm not taking anything, Sam."

"I know, kid, you said. You're like a broken record. Oh well, it's your loss," he told me. He sounded like he was making fun of me- like I wasn't as good as the other girls.

I heard the cupboard doors rattle and something being poured. I was still concentrating on washing the plates and bowls, but when I heard a slam of a glass next to me my eyes shifted.

There was a glass filled with dark brown liquid. I guessed it was Jack Daniels. I could cope with that, even if I wasn't a fan of the taste of whisky.

I dropped the cloth I was using, picked up the glass, and turned around.

Sam was staring at me. Was I doing something wrong?

I looked down at the glass and hesitantly sipped the liquid. I could still feel his stare on me, and that made me tense up.

The curtain was pulled to the side gently, and Rosalie appeared at the doorway.

"Rosie baby, you look ready for making _a lot _of business tonight." Sam's eyes drifted up and down Rosalie's body.

A sweet smile curved on her face as she padded towards Sam.

"Thanks, hon," she answered and then closed her eyes and rose her arms up into the air swaying them to the music.

"Rosie, your first client is at nine thirty," Sam told her. She didn't even flinch at his words. She continued to be wrapped up in the song like it was biblical.

Sam laughed, "It's Mr. Lewis, by the way, so you might want to keep your shoes off." I shut my eyes tightly and gulped a mouthful of JD down my throat. Of course, it made my face scrunch up in disgust afterwards. It took Rosalie a few seconds to react to what Sam had just said.

"Mr. Lewis? Fuck, why is it always me? Every goddamn time, Sam!" Rosalie snapped at him. I decided to stay quiet. I'd had Mr. Lewis once before and there was a reason why I had him _only_ once before.

Mr. Lewis had a strange sexual fetish.

He didn't get turned on by a girl's cup size or how nice her ass looked.

He liked feet.

I hated having clients who got turned on by weird things. To this day, I didn't get how feet could turn somebody on – it was the only body part that had nothing going for it.

My first and last encounter with him was during the third month I was working for Sam. I was still uneducated in sex; hell, I didn't even know what fetishes were!

Rosalie always joked about the event, but the thought still made me shudder. I had no tactic back then. I used to just take my clothes off and stand there, staring at the floor, waiting for them to do whatever they liked to me.

I remembered my heart was racing like crazy when I waited for my client, not knowing what was going to happen. I remembered when he came in and I quietly said hi to him, although he didn't respond. So I just stood there for a second and took each article of clothing off of my body.

I used to do it pretty quick because I just wanted to get it over and done with. His eyes stared at my breasts for a few moments; he tilted his head as if he was mentally jotting down all his opinions of me. His attention shifted straight down to my feet and he licked his lips. He crouched down right in front of me and stared up at my face and delivered a creepy smile, which only made me more scared.

I had various scenarios of what would happen transmitting through my mind and I only hoped he would be gentle. He stroked his hands down my legs which caused me to shudder and when his hand reached my feet he grabbed them tightly and I heard a low groan escape from his mouth. Well, I was just fifteen at the time so I didn't know whether I should have said something or not, but before I could even contemplate on what to say he started to plant light kisses around my ankles and made his way down to my toes. The kisses were tickling me and made me feel even more uncomfortable, because I wanted to bend down and scratch my feet. Then, all of a sudden, he put my big toe in his mouth and bit it. I was so surprised by his act, my own actions were on autopilot.

I yelped and kicked him in the face - hard.

Sam was really pissed off about it, but not as much as the customer. I swore Mr. Lewis was going to hit me, but before he could, I retrieved my robe and fled out of the room. After that, Rosalie got Mr. Lewis to calm down and that led to Rosalie being the girl that he spent over a grand on every month.

"Rosie, sweetie, nobody does it like you and that's why he asks you every time," Sam said and then pushed a few strands of her hair behind her ear.

"That's easy for you to say, you don't have to pretend you're climaxing whilst a forty year old man is dribbling on your little toe," Rosalie groaned.

"Rosie," he sang. The way he said her name told me that what he was going to ask next would have been something I wouldn't have liked.

"Now, baby, how about another hit?" he asked coolly.

Now he was speaking Rosalie's language and he knew that she couldn't resist. I didn't even have to look at her face to know that her eyes brightened like streetlights.

"I thought you'd like that," I heard him say and then listened to his footsteps walk out of the room - probably to retrieve the chest.

While he was gone, I bore my eyes into her face and she didn't dare look back at me. Why was she doing this to herself? I didn't know how I could stop her. I hated to think about it, but she needed medical help.

Sam reappeared with the chest secured in his hands and dropped it on the cheap counters. He looked at me and had a malicious twinkle in his eyes. I was pretty sure he enjoyed giving her the smack - it meant that he had better control over her.

"You might want to cover your eyes, kid. Don't want you to get yourself in a temper tantrum." Sam then smirked at me.

My eyes squinted at his words.

Sam took a metal spoon out of one of the kitchen drawers and placed it onto the table. He then opened a syringe out of a packet, walked over to the sink and twisted the cold tap, his eyes attentively locked onto the little numbers that went up the side. He carefully put enough water into the syringe and walked back to the chest.

I glared daggers at his face as he tied the belt around Rosalie's arm - she was all too eager to help him.

It was as if I wasn't even in the room as the two were getting ready to shoot some H, and it made me feel sick. I was silently praying that she would survive this hit. I should've just walked out and left her to her own devices, but I didn't want anything to happen to her. What if she overdosed and I wasn't even there?

"That one," she pointed to a pulsing vein on her arm. Her track marks were bright as day and I quietly gasped at the ugly sight. I don't know why I gasped. It wasn't as if I'd never seen them on her arm.

Sam didn't say anything - he was like a doctor treating a patient. The powder was already on the metal spoon. He then squirted the water onto the curve of the spoon and in one swift action he flicked open his lighter and rested it underneath.

I took another drink of my JD and didn't even care about the harsh taste that went with it.

"Iz, would you roll me some cotton," Sam immediately asked me. My eyes widened at his request - he must have been joking, there would have been no way.

"Hell no," I retorted, without even thinking about it. I heard him breathe out heavily through his nostrils.

"Look, Iz, I'm not asking for a fucking miracle - just pass me some cotton."

He knew how I felt about all of this and I knew I was fighting a losing battle, but my feelings were pressuring the inside of my skin. I couldn't stand there and willingly be participant.

"No," I boldly replied. He suddenly kicked the lower cabinet - hard. It even made Rosalie jump.

"Bitch, pass the cotton now! If this shit gets spoilt, your ass will be on the fucking line!" he shouted at me.

The intensity of his voice sent chills down my spine and I was left speechless. His eyes were now locked onto mine and I could see fury overwhelming him.

"If you don't give it to me, bitch, I will make you sleep outside tonight like the fucking dog you are. Now do you want to be treated like a dog?" His voice was so loud. Paul had got up to see what the commotion was and I could see Jessica in the background, sitting by herself in the corner of the room like an obedient schoolgirl. She had fear written on her face and that shit hit me worse than a fist.

"No, I don't." My voice was quiet and it wavered slightly. His eyes burnt into me and I felt really, really nervous.

"That's interesting to know," he calmly replied. "Cotton, now."

I weakly nodded in response and slowly opened the cabinet to collect the cotton wool, still feeling shaken from his sudden outburst.

"Could you be any slower, bitch? Because I swear, I will buy a kennel for your ass. You don't deserve hospitality."

His words stung.

I knew this threat was a real one, because Lauren had told us that he had done it to a previous girl who used to work for Sam.

I reluctantly passed him the cotton and I felt a prickling sensation in my eyes. _I wouldn't cry in front of him._ Instead, I collected my drink and tried to mask my tender feelings by concentrating so hard on the liquid going down my throat.

I watched Sam soak the cotton into the deathly substance. He then picked up the syringe, slipped the tip into the cotton and retracted the plunger. It was ready.

I turned my eyes back to Rosalie who was transfixed on Sam the whole time. She was desperate for her hit. She didn't have to say it.

Just before Rosalie gave the go ahead to Sam, I felt a fresh cold breeze hit my back from the other end of the kitchen.

All of our attention moved to the old door and Lauren appeared, wearing tight jeans and a snug leather jacket. She was heavily done up, light blue eye shadow, thick black eyeliner, florescent pink lip-gloss...the works.

I didn't think I looked much different, either.

Lauren had short platinum blond hair that was dyed from a bottle; I guessed her natural color was a mousy brown as she had an inch of dark roots emerging from her central parting. She looked cheap, and I wondered if that was what people thought of me. She had a couple of shopping bags in her hands. Lauren was the only girl allowed to go out by herself and Rosalie and I weren't a hundred percent sure why this was, but we had our theories.

Lauren's eagle eyes scanned the room. No warm smile to greet us (not that I was expecting one). Then her eyes squinted at the belt that was wrapped around Rosalie's arm.

"Oh for crying out loud, Sam! You're such a hypocrite!" She cried out and slammed her bags on the counter.

Sam laughed like a husky dog, while her pink lips pouted in frustration.

"I thought you said you weren't gonna give her any more?" Lauren complained. I didn't think Lauren cared much for Rosalie. I was sure she said that because smack didn't last long with Rose about, and Lauren, being the greedy little bitch she was, would want the smack for herself or at least sell it.

Sam chuckled. "Well, I guess I lied." Sam went back to what he was about to do before Lauren made her grand entrance, and pressed the syringe into one of Rose's veins, just below the crook of her elbow.

Rosalie bit her bottom lip and I could imagine what she was feeling now. Suspense and excitement - she needed her relief.

I watched him carefully release her addiction into her system and as soon as the first delicate waves of blood entered the syringe, her face soften and a low moan escaped from her lips. She was back to her safe haven and she would stay there until she needed to score again.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Lauren mumbled and searched through one of her shopping bags, pulled out a carton of cigarettes and lit up.

I knew she was pissed because she wanted to be Sam's favorite. The thought of Rosalie being the expensive beauty grated on every emotion she held in that cold heart.

Then she caught me staring at her.

"What?" she snapped.

I flinched my eyebrows. "Nothing," I answered dryly.

She took a drag of her cigarette and stared at me. I looked straight back at her and watched the cloud of smoke drift into the air.

"Sam, who have I got tonight?" She asked him, but her eyes were still burnt onto my face and I tried to keep up the fight.

"Y'know that tall guy who was talking to Jared last Monday?" He answered.

"Uh-huh."

"Him." Her round face didn't even move.

I always thought this wasn't just a job for her, I thought it was pleasure, too.

Rosalie told me after a week of me sharing a bedroom with her that her mother was a prostitute, too. She told me that Lauren came from a bad background. She'd always lived in a brothel and it was inevitable that Lauren would have become a hooker.

Lauren apparently dropped out of school when she was sixteen to pursue this horrible career - her mother didn't care so much as she was on every illegal drug she could get her claws on, so the expected happened. Shortly after Lauren quit school, her mother died the typical way us girls go - a drug overdose. Her mother's pimp sorted Lauren out and he referred her to Sam who was, at the time, a type of apprentice for this guy.

Lauren was one of the first girls here. Looking at her now - even if she was giving me a vile look - I felt sorry for her. She was the only girl here who didn't run away and that was probably why Sam trusted her. She had nowhere to run away to, she'd never tasted freedom once in her life.

"Actually his friend will be Iz' first client tonight," Sam casually told the room.

I twisted my head to Sam's direction; he was messing around with his lighter, flicking it on and off, he obviously wasn't interested in the subject matter.

I forgot for a second about my first client. I looked over to Rosalie who was slumped on the counter. I had a bad feeling about tonight.

"By the way, kid, your client will be here in ten minutes so you best get yourself sorted." He didn't even look at me. I think in his eyes I really was just an object that he owned.

I didn't care too much that he didn't acknowledged me when he talked to me, because I still felt raw from when he shouted at me earlier.

"Yeah, kid, you best get yourself ready," Lauren smiled at me cynically. I sighed and decided to ignore her.

I carried the remainder of my drink upstairs with me. The alcohol hadn't done much to me yet; I was still wondering whether Rosalie would've been okay.

As I entered mine and Rosalie's room, I rested my drink on the vanity table and made sure the room was tidy before my next client would arrive. This was procedure - a customer wouldn't want to be in a messy room unless he required it.

I made the bed and took off the thin sheet I used last night. Instead, I chucked a violet duvet over it that we kept underneath the bed. I then made sure it looked neat and tidy. I carefully placed some matching pillows over the bed, to give it decoration.

I checked that there were no dirty clothes lying around on the floor and that I'd hid my only teddy-bear. When all that was done, I ruffled my hair and touched up on lipstick.

I was ready, and just saying that in my head made the nerves twist in my stomach and I couldn't seem to get rid of them. I could have really used a smoke, but the carton was downstairs.

I sat down on the bed and waited. That was all I could do. I picked up my teddy from his hiding place and stroked his worn out fabric. I called him Joe-Joe. I'd had him since I was a baby. My mother bought him for me, I think anyway, and when I left home, Joe-Joe was the first possession I'd put in my backpack. I knew Sam didn't approve but as long as Joe-Joe wasn't out when the customers were there, he couldn't say anything. I gave Joe-Joe a tight hug before I hid him under the bed again.

Then I heard the bang of the door from downstairs.

Showtime.

I took another sip of my JD as I heard Sam's voice. He was probably going over the rules as he usually did. I leaned on the wall and waited for my client. I stared at the dirty netting hung on the window and listened to his heavy footsteps walking up the stairs and I smacked my lips together apprehensively.

I heard the door open and then I slowly turned my head.

My eyes widened at the man who stood in the doorway. He wasn't the usual client; he must have been in his late twenties/early thirties and he was relatively good looking.

I suddenly felt underdressed and awkward; then I remembered it was my job to gallivant around half naked or naked.

The man had dirty blonde hair and wore a broad smile. I hesitantly smiled back, not knowing what to say because I was shocked. I suppose the man looked all right, but I couldn't have guessed what would have been in store for me.

"So you're the moody Rockstar?" he asked, still smiling at me. I noticed his voice had a gravely sound to it. I wasn't sure whether I liked that or not.

I hated when one of the guys called us a 'rockstar'. It was Sam's stupid nickname for his girls, 'Sam's Rockstars,' on the street they referred to the house as 'Rockstars' or sometimes 'Rockstars Corner,' which I thought was incredibly clichéd. Maybe Sam thought it was cool - I wasn't sure.

"I'm the moody one," I answered.

"Plus, you look like a rockstar." He then smiled, and nodded to what I was wearing.

"Or a whore," I replied. I couldn't help but release an uneasy laugh.

"I heard you're the only girl in this house that isn't fucked up on the job," he stated. I nodded in response. "I respect you for that."

That made me laugh. "You respect me? I'm a hooker, not Mother Teresa," I sniped back at him

"You shouldn't think so low of yourself. We all have to make a living," he gently told me. He walked up to the bed and then sat on it. He patted it for me to join him and I obliged.

"So, Miss, what's your name?" he asked. We didn't usually like to give out personal information, but it wasn't uncommon for clients to ask us. It made them feel like they weren't doing something illegal.

"I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours," I answered. Saying stuff like that always got them in the mood.

He hesitated for a few seconds. "Mister...?" I asked. I could see him contemplating whether he should tell me or not. I thought it was odd since he wanted me to tell him my name.

"It's James," he answered after five seconds. I was surprised. I'd never had a client who told me their first name, it was always Mr. something or other.

"Oh, I see," I quickly replied, still shocked at his honesty. I was starting to go over in my head whether to tell him my real name or not.

"I'm Marie." I decided to stick with the latter option, although it wasn't a total lie of a name. It was my middle name and nobody knew it, but I decided to use it just this once, since this James seemed different. Usually I would have said the clichéd names, such as 'Pepper' or 'Bambi'.

"I don't know if that is your real name, but it's gorgeous. It definitely suits you," he smoothly told me. In my mind, I was laughing pretty hard. _Wow, what a corny line_.

"Thanks, I guess you tell that to all the prostitutes!"

He smirked, "Oh, only you,"

A silence settled on the room. He stared into my face. It made me uncomfortable. I'd never had a customer who talked or acted like this in front of me. I stood up and walked over to the shelf to grab some protection.

"So, what do you want? Ribbed? Flavored? We have blueberry and coca cola. They're kinda nice...it's weird how there are so many flavors these days...well, I suppose it's not that weird. Sex sells, right? Well, obviously you know that..." I was babbling.

It never really happened like this. I usually kept quiet. The customer might say a few words but we got straight into it. They never came across like James. He seemed polite and it wasn't like he was in a rush to make his dick happy; then again he was paying for sex. I needed to keep that thought in my mind.

I heard him laugh. "Pick any."

I grabbed ribbed and when I turned around, he wasn't on the bed anymore. He was standing near the vanity table next to my drink and our box of cosmetics. He looked at me and seemed in good spirits; maybe it was because he was gonna get some.

"Why do you do this?" he suddenly asked.

I kept quiet for a moment and sucked my bottom lip. I didn't really want to talk about it to him, since it was really was none of his business.

"We all have our own reasons." I tried to be ambiguous, but he looked at me with an arched eyebrow and that annoyed me.

"You don't know me and you wouldn't understand," I added. His expression didn't change, but I didn't care.

I reached out to my glass of JD and shot the rest of it back down my throat, trying to not let the strong taste get to me.

James reached out and stroked my brown hair. His touch made me shiver and his eyes were intensely locked onto mine. I could smell the cologne he was wearing. It was a strong smell, but it suited him. His smile had left him and his hands stroked down my arms. His hands were large and had a rough texture to them and I didn't know whether I liked that or not.

I had a feeling of just wanting to get this over and done with, or it could have been the alcohol. I took a step forward and clamped my hands on his face, molding my kisses onto his skin.

He reacted by gripping onto my body, pulling my chest to his. I felt the heat being exchanged between us, and it lit a flame inside of me. He started caressing my ass, obviously trying to excite me for our evening plans.

I tried to walk his body onto the bed, but I was finding this close to impossible. Instead, I stumbled slightly and this made him immediately take charge and shove me onto the bed, causing me to bounce a little on the mattress.

He stood there, staring at me in my small article of clothing and it was clear that his eyes were filled with lust.

I was waiting for him to join me and become some kind of sex savage, but instead he stood their watching me, not moving a muscle.

"What's wrong?" I asked, "Don't you want to fuck me?"

"Of course I do," he said, "but it's a little forced."

"It's what I'm paid for." My eyes lowered to the ground. The strap on my slip had fallen past my shoulder and I must have been a sad sight.

"Let's just take it slow." My eyes rose and he seemed honest. He slowly moved over and lay next to me on the bed.

When he was at my face level, his hand made a comeback onto my pale skin. It was as if he was getting to know me when he stroked my body. It made me feel all tingly and I just lay on the bed, letting him do it to me. It was like he was worshipping me. I started to feel things that I'd never felt before with a customer.

"I just don't understand why you girls do this." His voice broke the quiet and it sent tremors up through my body - in a good way.

My reaction was slower than usual and I started to think of what to say back. So many thoughts were being processed in my mind, but I didn't know which one to say. This was unusual; I nearly always had an answer to everything.

"Er, I-I told you earlier, lots of reason. Some of us just fall into it. It's, um, kind of inevitable." That wasn't as coherent as I thought it should have been. Maybe the alcohol had gotten to me. After all, I felt relaxed and an anesthetic feeling was growing over me - like I was there and I wasn't. All feelings and reactions were on a slow delay and I didn't seem to care.

He smiled at me. "In God's eyes, it's a sin."

My eyes squinted at his reply. "W-Well, it's a good thing I'm not religious. What has God done for me recently? Fuck all." A lazy grin fell on my face that had a hint of bitterness behind it. "I'm more of a big bang believer."

He sighed. "That's no way to act, Marie." I laughed inside when he called me, 'Marie'.

I tried to clamber myself up to get a better look at him, but as I did so I started to feel dizzy - it was odd. This had never happened before. It must have been the alcohol.

"Well, I can act ha-how I want, you only own me for an hour, tops. I guess, unless you're prepared to pay _a lot_ more money. So, w-we should get this over and done with." I felt myself swaying. I couldn't get a grip.

"Is that how you really feel?" His voice seemed more hard-hitting and took me by surprise. I nodded my head slightly, feeling ill from the dizziness.

"Get undressed," he ordered, eyeing me.

That sounded a lot more like what a customer would say and my insides numbed because, for a second, I thought he was different. I stood up and started sliding my straps off my shoulders, he sat on the bed watching me and I saw him starting to stroke his groin.

Then, I lost my balance and stumbled.

I heard him groan - but not in a pleasurable way. That sound put my heart on hold as the frightened feeling came back to me. He shot off the bed so fast, and then roughly grabbed hold of my slip.

"If you want to get something done, you have to do it yourself." He pulled my slip down so my breasts were exposed and I wanted to do something, but for some reason I was finding it hard to fight back.

"Cheap," he said. Then, he shoved me into the wardrobe.

My forehead banged straight into the corner of the piece of furniture. All I did was growl, even though I should have felt the pain as I felt how forceful the shove was, but my mind and movements were slow.

I tried to steady myself by grabbing onto the wardrobe's knob, but the wardrobe door flung open with me clutching onto it. I lost my balance once again and fell backwards into the wardrobe and brought down all of its contents, creating a loud sound that shook through the house.

I banged my head on the back of the wardrobe and felt James' rough hands grasping onto me, but my consciousness was retreating into another world.

I felt hands on my face, pinching my cheeks and I heard James' voice. He called me a 'bitch' and he mumbled some other words that I couldn't decipher.

I lay in the back of the wardrobe and felt his brutal touch on me, but I couldn't do anything.

Then, I heard other voices enter into the equation, so much shouting and screaming.

My mind was now in a deep abyss. The darkness was surrounding me and in a weird way it was nice. It was nice to be alone in this new world. It was like I had finally escaped and I felt a sense of relief.

More panic-stricken voices followed, but I didn't care. My eyes were shut and if they never opened again - I wouldn't have cared. Then, the sounds left me. It was quiet for a long time and my senses had been cut off from the world.

I was going to die.

It felt serene as I was drifting off, and as I was dying, the last thing I distinctly heard was an angelic, velvety voice. After that, my death was somewhat peaceful.

* * *

**Thank you for reading. (:**


	3. Secrets Should lay Silently

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight.**

**A/N: Massive thank you to PTB. Also _Jessica0306, Pamela0201 and OhGeekyOne - Thank you for your help!_**

**_Sorry for re-posting again. I posted the wrong thing...  
_**

* * *

Chapter Three - Secrets should lay Silently.

'So left to wander blind, I find myself in cautious times,  
And they say, Love's labour is never lost; labour on to this very day.' ~ **Laura Marling**

* * *

_It was all oddly familiar. The creamy walls __that had a happy shine to them were gleaming down on me, creating my good mood. _

_It was the color of our kitchen before she made him redecorate. After__wards, the walls were a bloody red because she said it looked modern and classy. _

_I remembered my mom getting so annoyed with me in __that room because I was such a fussy eater. She said I got it from my father. Although, I knew she wasn't really annoyed with me because she always used to shake her head and then laugh when I spat out the foods she made me try. _

_Just thinking about it made me giggle, and for me that was so out of character. _

_I stared longingly at the creamy walls until my eyes lingered over the recognizable beach colored counters. The kitchen was how it used to be and it was comforting, like somebody giving you a huge hug from behind. I wandered across the tiles, breathing in the wholesome scent of bread being made. It was home._

_It was as if I was__ walking on foam; I felt light without any worries or anxieties killing me, although I knew this wasn't drug related. It was completely opposite, like when you meet a childhood friend again after so many years and you ponder on all the stupid yet funny things you did together. _

_It was __as if the room was a living, breathing memory._

_Before I knew it__, I started opening cupboards, checking that it was all the same, like nothing had changed. There was my Coca-Cola cup sitting in the corner of the glass cupboard. Everybody knew it was my cup and nobody touched it. Our cupboards used to be filled with glasses that didn't have identical partners, and the reason behind that was because I was so clumsy - that's why my Coca-Cola cup was made out of plastic. _

_"Bella?" I heard a hearty voice ask, "Bella, is that you?" _

_M__y eyes widened by the sound. I gulped down a pile of nerves that made every bone I owned shake. This moment streamed into my thoughts time and time again, but I never thought it would have happened. I gazed down at my small, pale hands like they would tell me answers, and I could hear my own breathing getting louder as I felt more nervous. I knew who it was._

_"Bella, please say it's you?" I heard the voice ask imploringly. _

_I closed my eyes._ The _ The voice seemed pained and I couldn't resist the temptation._

_"It's me," I quietly responded. _

_I heard thudding noises stampeding toward me._

_"You're late, young lady." I turned my head around hesitantly and opened my eyes. He hadn't changed. He still looked his bright eyed self with his signature broad smile that always used to make me forgive and forget, and I hated him for it, but I couldn't defy that smile._

_I thought I would have forgotten everything about him__; I thought his face was deteriorating in my mind. _

_It was a relief to see him again._

_It felt like I was star-struck and I wasn't sure what I should have said next. Should I have been angry? Or should I have been lapping on the apologies? _

_He smiled. "Pancakes still your fave, Bells? Or have you moved onto a different food craze?" _

_I bit my lip and smiled gently. I couldn't believe whose eyes were staring back into mine. I couldn't believe how perfect this was; it was like I was imagining everything._

_"Pancakes will be just fine," I answered, watching his face crease into a warming smile. "And don't forget, l like them drenched in syrup," I told him. He mocked an eye roll which made me giggle. It felt so light escaping from my lungs._

_"Not much has changed then, hey, Bells? I'm surprised your teeth haven't fallen out." _

_I gave him a playful slap on the arm as he walked over to the cupboard and started taking out each ingredient, one by one. As I watched his actions I could see the sun shining through the window and glinting on the curls of his hair. I'd missed him._

_He didn't bother measuring anything because he was a pro at pancake making. _

_"I thought you would have changed, Bells, but you're exactly the same little girl I will always remember." He didn't look at me when he said it, but I could hear happiness in his voice which made my insides radiate bliss. _

_"I'll always be your little girl," I told him softly. He laughed lightly and continued to whisk the ingredients. _

_"So, how is everything?" I asked. I was hoping he would have told me something I had dreamed of for the last few years. I wanted him to turn around and tell me how he had been wrong._

_"Everything's fine." His voice tightened. I pursed my lips for a second and then resumed my smile. _

_"C'mon, something must have happened. It's been a while and you can't tell me it's been hunky-dory for the past couple of years." I continued nervously. Was I treading onto unsteady ground?_

_He grabbed the pancake pan out from the lower cupboard and placed it on the cooker, warming it up. He then scooped a knob of butter onto the pan. I watched the butter dissolve into rapid bubbles, running around the pan in millions of individual droplets._

_"Well, Bells, you know what it's like around here....hmm...let's think...news. Oh, well, we arrested Mrs. Moss from across the road a few months ago." I heard myself gasp. It wasn't the exact news I had wanted, but it was news all the same. "Yeah, we caught her selling illegal medicines. I should have known earlier, to be honest; she used to say she was a cleaning lady. I should have had doubts that something was going on, because, c'mon Bells, you remember how extravagant her lifestyle was. I should have known as soon as she bought that Jacuzzi tub..." _

_"You can't blame yourself." I stretched my hand out and gave him a gentle pinch on his arm. I displayed __my best smile._ _"As long as she's got what she deserves now, you're still the number one cop."_

_A small smile crept up on his face. "Thanks, Bells. God it's such a relief to have you back, sweetie." He paused for a second. "Well, I don't want to bore you with what has happened around here. It's always been a dead town. I bet you have more exciting stories, so then Bells, what have you been up to?" He poured the batter into the pan._

_That question just rung through the room and echoed off the walls. I swore my heart stopped beating. I swore that my head was going to explode, and I knew that he would be able to tell if I was lying. There was no other option._

_"Well...uh, well y'see, I've just been, well, I-I got a job. Yeah, real nice job...well not 'real nice' 'cause jobs aren't supposed to be fun, right? I met a few people, stayed with them for a bit...well, more than a bit...quite a while. It was just fine, to be honest. Just fine." I always knew I sucked at lying, but I was sure I didn't suck that hard. I had painfully lied and failed, and I had to stop because I saw my face reflected in his eyes. He knew I was lying._

_"Bella, what are you hiding?" I heard him place the spoon back down onto the counter and it was like the air around us immediately got thicker._

_"Hiding?" I repeated. "You know I'm not hiding anything, you know that, right? I was awful at hide and seek when I was younger..." I babbled on, it was excruciating. _

_"Isabella Swan, what happened? I have a right to know," he demanded. I saw his thick eyebrows contort together. It hurt me hard that just a couple of minutes ago his eyes had been soft and loving. Just like I had imagined they would have been, exactly how I wanted everything to turn out._

_"No, no you don't. . . " I retorted weakly._

_I heard a creaking sound coming from behind me. My mind delved into a realm of confusion. Was she still...? No, no she couldn't, she shouldn't still be here._

_"Hon, you really don't want to know what she's been up to," I heard a sickly sweet tone say. The mere sound of that bitch made my insides churn and my face turn sour._

_I twisted around to face my enemy._

_It was her. She stood there in all of her trashy glory. Her summer-shine hair that laid there lifeless next to her thin cheeks. Her turned up nose, which made her look snooty even if she wasn't trying to be, and that fake tan that she got topped up on_ a _fortnightly basis. Of course, designer dolled up, she was practically swimming in couture, whilst I had my Wal-Mart slacks on. Her presence always made me feel small, a piece of nothing, because she had that hold on him. That hold that I once had._

_"What?" he asked in confusion._

_"Oh, sweetie, I heard the news about your angel. Turns out her halo got knocked off and she fell pretty far." She started to do that unforgettable walk. Where she exaggerated the sway of her hips and it made her body bob up and down. To be honest, I thought she walked more like a headless turkey than a runway model._

_As she stopped in front of him, she brushed her index finger down his cheek. _

_I didn't say anything but I hoped she had it all wrong. _

_She then leaned__ in and nuzzled her face into his neck. I heard her whisper dance around the room, even though I couldn't have deciphered the sound. This was how she worked, and she could always work me. She knew what pissed me off, she knew how to grab all of his precious attention and wrap it around her dainty, manicured finger like it was a game. _

_I stared at the two doors in the room. The first one on the right led to the backyard where I could've ran down the lawn and jumped over the wooden fence. Or I could've ran through the door on the left, but I would take that option if I wanted to stay, as it led to other parts of the house. _

_I was glued to the spot, no muscles were working. It was as if I was paralyzed; I looked up to the couple with dismay._

_She snickered, but he stared me down, like he was going to throw up. _

_He knew._

_He knew who and what I was. I wasn't his little girl, and that tore me to shreds._

_My breathing picked up at a quicker rate._

_"I don't know why you came back, whore." He growled. _

_The words stung me like lemon to a wound. The look on his face, God...the look on his face..._

_I felt a tear prickle __down my cheek and I wanted to wipe it off so badly, but my arms were immobile._

_"C'mon sweet pea, she's not worth it," she told him, and then her eyes pierced into mine. She then looked me up and down with much disdain. "Oh dear," she said._

_My blood boiled to a temperature that I never knew it could have reached, but there were no words that could've hit back at her with the same force._

_"You're right, baby," he said back at her. _

_He was right. I was a nobody, a nothing, a whore. _

_Wasn't that how everybody perceived me anyway?_

_The couple sauntered out of the room, out of door B that led to other parts of the house. It was as if I was a bad memory that they could've tossed to the side like rubbish. _

_I was rubbish; I wasn't anything spectacular or anything to have been proud of. I was the little fuck up, and he knew it. _

_As the door slammed, the room changed._

_I was left alone - it was just me and my thoughts._

_The room had suddenly turned back into the bloody red with the fake marble counter-tops. _

_The room was how it was the day I left._

_And the room stunk of burnt pancake._

_***_

I was in a state of confusion when my eyelids began to flutter open, which I didn't think would have ever happened.

My body felt awkward; it was wrapped tight within sheets like a cocoon, and I became aware of an itching sensation on the top of my head. Bright lights were beaming onto my face from the ceiling; the lights were surrounded by tiles which had 10x10 punched holes in them. As my eyes looked around, the panic crept onto me. Where the hell was I?

I heard beeping noises circling around my head. There was a large multicolored curtain pulled around the bed I was lying on. It had a dated diamond pattern and it made me feel ill.

How _did_ I get here?

Did Sam know where I was?

The objects and the smell that surrounded me were foreign and felt wrong.

I hated when I felt vulnerable, but the feeling was inevitable. I tried to sit up in the unfamiliar bed. My limbs felt weak and it was a struggle.

What had happened to me?

Every second I was on that bed made me more terrified, like somebody would jump out.

I felt something small next to me. It gave me a fright at first and made my head automatically spin around; it was Joe-Joe.

A sense of relief followed as my eyes rested on my old teddy bear. He was also wrapped tightly beneath the bed clothes with his soothing smile beaming up at me.

Only Rosalie would have known where Joe-Joe would have been.

I gripped onto the sheets and tried to pull them out from under the mattress.

I'd never been so secured in a bed before and I had to use all of my strength just to budge the covers. After a few tries, I gave up, feeling hot frustrated tears welling up in my eyes.

I wanted Rosalie to have been there, even if she was slumped by my bedside.

I grabbed hold of the bed board behind me and tried to ease my way out of the sheets. I felt pearls of sweat formulating on the back of my neck and an exhausted sound escaped through my gritted teeth.

I suddenly heard the curtains rattle and my hands immediately retracted.

"You need to get some rest. I'd advise you to stop trying to move," a deep velvety voice said.

The voice had an authoritative sound to it as if it meant business. I suddenly realized I had my eyelids closed; I didn't want to open them in fear I would've been looking at somebody who would've done me harm.

"Miss, we're glad you've woken up, but could you please stop fidgeting in your bed? You're You're disturbing the other patients," the voice told me. _Patients? _I thought. I hesitantly opened my eyes, wondering exactly where I was.

When they were fully opened, they landed on a tall man standing at the end of my bed. He must have been in his mid-twenties as he didn't look like any of the men who'd visited the house. They were usually old-looking and not the most attractive.

This man looked different. He was wearing a long white coat that had a name tag pinned on his right side that said 'Dr. Cullen.'

When my eyes drifted upwards to his face, I had to admit, my breath hitched for a second. He was more than handsome, with intense emerald eyes and a fine chiseled jaw that made me think of the heroes in the love stories who swept the heroines off of their feet. He had bronze messy hair and a reassuring but distant look about him – the two didn't go together, that's why I said he was _different._ Not like any of the men I'd ever laid eyes on.

Although, I needed to remember he was yet another man. That thought alone made me feel a sense of resentment towards this male specimen standing before me.

"I'd like to do a check-up now, Miss," he told me. His striking eyes were still staring at me lying in the bed.

But there wasn't a flicker of a smile.

I just nodded, hoping that was a suitable response. He charged out of the ward for a few seconds and when he arrived back, he had a clipboard resting between his arms. He moved toward me, not looking in my eyes but a something on my head.

His hand touched the top of my forehead. His touch sent a tingling sensation that plucked harmoniously within me. It didn't help my nerves but I didn't want him to remove his hand.

He then pulled something off - I think it was a bandage. I tried to gain his eye contact, but he was too focused on his work. He remained quiet whilst I stared at his unique features.

Who was this man?

Obviously a doctor.

But he seemed so much more.

It occurred to me that I'd never been so close to man before without him touching me inappropriately.

His eyebrows were furrowed together, which made his face look pretty intense whilst he was doing this 'check-up'. Judging by the look, I bet he could've been a real asshole.

He then touched a sensitive place on my forehead. I didn't know it felt so fragile.

I inhaled loudly, noticing my dry throat. He made a 'hmm' noise.

"We may need you over night," he stated. stated. I swallowed; what did he mean?

"You've suffered a head wound - it's nothing too major but it could take a couple of weeks to heal," he told me in a monotonous tone.

I gritted my teeth because of the sound of his droning voice; it made me feel stupid. It was as if he couldn't be bothered to give me the time of day.

His behavior reminded me of Sam. I could just picture some of the cold looks that he sent me. He made me feel like a piece of furniture. All men are the same: uncaring bastards.

As this Dr. Cullen went to put my bandage back on my head, I flinched at his touch, which was the complete opposite reaction to what I did when he first touched me.

His eyes widened for a second, surprised, and then he narrowed them like he was trying to read me. I couldn't hold his eye contact – I needed answers.

I cleared my throat and tried to keep my dignity intact, overlooking the fact that I was still wearing my slip and stockings from last night.

"Where am I?" I asked, trying to keep my voice level.

He stared at me for a second and sharpened his eyes. "You're in the hospital. You were admitted last night," he said without any amble, and then sighed, probably because of the look on my face.

I had a twisted feeling in my stomach because for some reason, I couldn't remember anything that had happened last night.

"What happened to me?" I asked. I was starting to lose my calm composure.

He tried not to show too much emotion - emphasis on _tried._ His eyes told all. He felt sorry for me. It's not a look I've seen a lot, but you can't mistake it.

"I was hoping you knew that, but obviously you wouldn't be able to remember." He closed his eyes for approximately two and a half seconds and when he reopened them, he had an even sterner look on his face. "I'm sorry to inform you, but your blood test indicated that last night you were drugged with a high dose of Rohypnol."

I stopped breathing for a second.

I'd been drugged? I wasn't even sure what Rohypnol was but it didn't sound good. I felt my insides collapse as my eyes disconnected with Dr. Cullen. They wandered to the gap between the curtains and I saw the ward behind him. An old, frail woman was lying in a bed talking loudly about how hungry she was, but she couldn't eat because of the tablets she was on.

I hated drugs; I hated them so much. I sometimes wondered why it was so easy to say yes. I sighed and felt my eyes sting with tears.

I breathed in. "And what does that mean?"

His eyes lowered to the ground for a couple of seconds and then they reached mine again. In that moment, I felt his striking features strum something sensitive inside of me, but I tried to dismiss it. Yeah, he was hot, but he was just another man bearing bad news.

"Taking Rohypnol gives a sedated effect, like being under the influence of alcohol. It makes you incredibly vulnerable, which leads me on to say that we strongly recommend you take a sexual assault exam."

"I've been raped?" I heard my voice waver and I tried my hardest to remember what had happened last night.

The last thing I remembered was being with James and grabbing the condoms. After that, everything was hazy, little snap-shots of his face occurred in my mind. It made me feel sick.

"We can't be certain." Then Dr. Cullen's voice deepened. "Although it's most probable, Miss, I'm sorry."

"I don't believe you," I snapped back.

"You don't have to; as I said, I can't be certain." Dr. Cullen knew nothing about me and I was glad, because he wouldn't have been giving me sympathetic eyes at that moment - he would have been thinking 'you brought it on yourself.'

That's what everybody thinks.

I silenced myself for a second. I didn't feel like I had had sex and most importantly, how did I get here? Sam never took us to hospital. He hid us from anything legal and sometimes it made me feel as if I didn't exist, like I was a ghost in a house.

"Where did you find me? Who took me in?" I felt like I had so many questions and so little time.

He stepped closer to my bedside. "We received an anonymous call last night and you were found lying, unconscious, on the sidewalk - with this," he gestured to Joe-Joe and briefly smiled, that was the first time I saw him smile.

He shouldn't have concealed it, although, it didn't stay for long as he went straight back to his professional side.

"I'm sorry to spring this on you, but we don't have your name, Miss, and we need it for paperwork," he he told me.

I felt even more sick and confused after he said that. My skin was set ablaze and I wasn't sure whether I should have told him or not. He was a doctor though, and I knew about patient-doctor confidentiality, but I never told a client my real name.

"It's Renee," I quietly told him.

"Renee…."

"Dwyer," I answered, deciding on telling him my mother's name - it felt so weird coming out of my mouth. I hadn't thought of her name in months, never mind saying it aloud.

I knew I had to lie and I was glad I didn't fumble on my words like usual. Maybe it was because I was exhausted.

My mind kept falling back on the same question.

What if I really had been raped?

Some people thought that there was no difference in being raped and being a prostitute.

That really pissed me off.

But who could've raped me? It couldn't have been James, could it? He seemed so nice.

"I think it's best, Miss Dwyer, you stay at the hospital for at least another night. You could coul have concussion and the best thing you can do is get plenty of rest," he told me.

That was a no-go.

I needed to be back at the house even though I didn't think I had the strength. It was funny, now that I was on my own, all I seemed to have been thinking about was getting back to the house.

I had a lump growing in my throat because I was sure I was nearing an emotional breakdown. My state of mind was in pure shock - so many thing were elevating around my head.

"I need to sit up," I abruptly told Dr. Cullen. He looked at me as if he knew it was a bad idea.

"I need to check something at the moment, Miss Dwyer, but I'll be back to help you. You really need to get some rest," he told me.

I sighed. I just wanted to get up and have the covers (which were acting like handcuffs) off of me. Of course, that wasn't going to happen.

I wasn't sure what my plan of action was, but I knew I had to do one thing: escape.

Then something hit my mind. I felt on edge about the idea but I knew it was the only thing I could do.

"How come your name is not in the hospital's database?" he asked me when he arrived back.

"I'm not from around here," I lied, well half lied.

He cocked his eyebrow. "Right..."

"Well, I only moved here a few months ago," I lied. One real lie this time.

"There are some forms you will need to fill out," he told me, although he sounded quiet.

He looked up. "We really think you ought to do that sexual examination, Miss Dwyer. It would help your case if you did," he told me softly.

I got lost in his bold, emerald eyes and I felt myself weaken; there would be no case. I wouldn't even be able to report the man to the police.

"If you need to speak to somebody, we have a counselor on this ward." He then shifted his hand and touched mine. His concerned expression eased and it did make me feel slightly better – but only slightly. The horrible lump in my throat had grown bigger and I'd never felt so sick in my life. I was still trying to battle the tears back and focus on my breathing.

I looked down at Dr. Cullen's hand for a few seconds. His hand felt warmer and softer than I'd expected. I then turned my head away and retrieved my arm back.

"Could you please help me up out of this bed?" I asked dryly.

"You really need to get some rest," he told me.

"Please."

He sighed. "Fine, but please promise me you will stop fidgeting. You'll thank me for it."

He then tugged at the sheets that were tucked in beneath the mattress and in one sharp action, they were pulled out. Everything felt a lot looser, which helped me a little bit.

"Could I have a glass of water?" I asked. He pursed his lips for a second.

"I'm very busy, Miss Dwyer. A nurse should be here in a second," he said.

"Well shouldn't you be looking after your patients?" I sharply retorted. I heard a low grumble escape from him as he turned his back on me and walked out of the ward.

Thank God.

I knew I had to escape at that very moment, because when it came to writing my information onto the forms, I would have been left clueless. Emergency numbers? Occupation? Could I really lie about something like that?

Then the counselor would have to be there, and I would have to open up and tell him things about my life. That would have probably meant lying and usually, I was an awful liar.

Then I would have to speak to the police. I bet it was mandatory.

But if I got caught escaping, that would make matters even worse. It would be suspicious, especially because of the reason why I was in here - and then more questions. The police would definitely get involved.

The thought made my stomach turn, but I was going to do this.

I quickly manoeuvred my legs from the bed and felt the fresh air that welcomed them. I didn't have time to relish the feeling - I barely had time to think straight.

I saw my coat hung on the back of a hospital chair, which was next to my bed. My sneakers were stashed underneath. I was surprised to find them there - there were more unanswered questions. I shoved my sneakers on, not even bothering to tie my laces, so I pushed them in around my feet.

I must have only had three minutes to escape - tops. I quickly picked up my coat and strapped it around myself. I grabbed Joe-Joe from the bed and slipped him into my pocket.

I peered around the curtain; it was a small ward. There were three patients in the ward, lying on their beds. Apart from the old woman, I didn't have a good look at the others. Although, what I did see was an old man getting up to leave from the ward.

I knew this was my only chance to make an inconspicuous departure. The old man was slipping on his suit jacket over a crinkly shirt, and I waited for him to say his goodbyes.

I was in luck. He didn't seem too fond of the woman he was visiting, so he said a quick goodbye, and left in haste. I soon joined him.

I stepped out of my safe zone; it felt like I was treading on no-man's land. The old woman eyed me, but she didn't say anything. I walked near the old man – close enough to make it look like I was his daughter, but there was still a distance so he didn't get suspicious.

The adrenaline was rushing through me faster than the drugs I took. Saying I was nervous was an understatement.

When we exited the ward, it felt like all eyes were on me, but I must have been wrong. People blandly looked at me for a couple of seconds, but didn't say anything. When I walked past the nurses' desk, they were all busy on their computers or having a chat.

I was fighting back the nerves, stabbing my nails into my hands, making crescent shapes.

They didn't seem to notice I was a patient.

I kept on following the old man since I had no idea where I was going. He turned round a corner, so I decided I'd do the same. The hospital felt cold and airy and it made me shake. I squeezed Joe-Joe, wishing that I'd get away with my ill-prepared plan.

Every step I took was painful and I involuntary held my breath.

What if I got caught?

The thought made my limbs feel unsteady - like they could collapse at any time.

I was sure I only had two minutes left; this was so close to the blade that Dr. Cullen could've walked out at any moment and catch me escaping.

Then prison.

I inhaled a long breath, but I felt dizzy. Obviously, it was an after-effect of whatever happened to me last night. I hoped I could've made it out of the hospital okay.

God, I hoped I would be okay.

Then, the old man and I made a quick turn into a quieter corridor. I could see a small elevator at the end of it.

I didn't get caught by the on-call nurses – that's how good the healthcare was in this hospital.

I might have had sarcastic thoughts then, but I was thankful. I kept on walking down the corridor at a fast pace, and my mind was obsessed with Sam.

He would've been so annoyed that my presence wasn't at the house. I was sure he would've been obsessing over business and the fact he wouldn't have made as much money.

If I wasn't thinking about Sam, I was thinking about what had happened to me.

Was I really raped?

I thought I would've felt different. My body didn't believe it. Sure, I didn't feel as strong as I usually did, but I thought I would have felt torn and bruised, but in fact, I just felt ill.

I arrived at the elevator, which had clear signs on the side of it. My eyes rolled over them, 'Reception - G'. I guessed that was my escape.

The old man pressed the button, and we both waited for the lift to arrive. Waiting for the elevator to arrive was excruciating.

I saw the elevator commencing onto my level. If it didn't come sooner, I didn't know what I'd do.

The thought made the palms of my hands perspire more.

Finally, the elevator arrived onto the floor with a _ding_ noise and I rushed into the small box, pressing the ground floor button - several times.

"You've got to be patient, Miss," the old man told me. I didn't say anything back because my throat felt dry, so I just nodded and gave him a small smile in return.

Somebody must've found my bed empty by now.

I had to stop thinking about that and concentrate on thinking about how to get the hell out of the hospital.

The elevator was incredibly slow; you could tell it was old. I hated riding in elevators, especially after watching the first ten minutes of _Resident Evil_. Sam put it on once. I couldn't keep watching it - I hated horrors.

Believe me - I wanted to take the stairs.

My muscles were jittering with nerves as I waited for the elevator to arrive on the ground floor.

Dr. Cullen must've been searching the wards for me. I bet they'd already called the police. He would've told all the nurses I was gone, so more people were looking for a 'Renee Dwyer'.

I could hear my heart pounding in my ears.

At last, the lift reached the ground floor and the old man gestured for me to leave first.

I was all too eager to leave and briskly stepped out into a sea of depressing grey chairs that had different types of people slumped over them.

This was the hospital's main reception.

There must've been an exit close.

My head scanned the large room, and I noticed the stairs. They mustn't have been far away from the elevator.

And then my fear conjured up.

Dr. Cullen.

I turned into a statue. I could smell prison already. prison already

He looked breathless and his face was rapidly searching through the reception.

Then our eyes collided.

We stood there for a couple of seconds. I could've crumbled onto the floor and begged him to let me go.

Instead, I launched into a run, darting for the exit.

"Miss Dwyer! Stop!" I heard his velvety voice shout.

I kept running without falter and felt trails of tears escaping the corners of my eyes.

I was too tired to run.

But I didn't have a choice.

My achy legs were at the brink of giving up the rest of my body.

Shit, shit, shit.

"Renee!" He had resorted to shouting my 'first' name.

People's eyes were staring at me, alarmed, although nobody did anything. People don't know what to do in these types of situations - they might've thought they would've stopped me, but the shock got to them first.

I saw the murky rain of Forks through the glass doors. I've never wanted to meet the rain so badly in my life.

I turned my head back round to see where Dr. Cullen was.

He was closer than I thought, and that made me softly cry.

When I arrived at the automatic doors, I nearly slammed into them. It killed me having to wait that extra one and a half seconds for them to open.

Dr. Cullen was so close.

"Fuck!" I shouted at the doors when they decided to open.

I rain into the air, but I didn't have the speed I had indoors. The cold wind blew through my hair, which created rough goosebumps along my arms.

I was close to the car park.

I saw cars turning in and out of spaces. Maybe I could've lost him there?

I stumbled onto the sidewalk as I approached the first row of cars.

And then it happened.

I felt a hand grasp onto my wrist and drag my whole body back.

A sharp pain stretched through my triceps. My heart flipped over.

My face was forced to stare at Dr. Cullen's. He looked like he was filled with a whirlwind of anger.

I automatically screamed - it hurt my throat but I was too scared to care.

"What...the...fuck...are...yo-" He tried to say whilst getting his breath back.

"Let me go, perv!" I screamed.

His eyes widened in disbelief - I knew it was a cheap shot, but at that moment, I didn't have any morals.

I would have said - or _done - _anything.

"Who are you?" he asked incredulously. His hands were still tight around my wrists, and his grip hurt.

"J-just let me go! Please!" I had resorted to begging so soon.

I tried pulling my hands back but he was stronger, _much_ stronger than I thought he was.

"Miss Dwyer, why the hell are you escaping? What the fuck is wrong with you?!" His voice was so loud it shook through me.

I felt cascades of tears falling down my cheeks.

"Please, I'll do anything! Just let me go. I really can't go back in there, just please, help me!" I screamed back, still making fruitless attempts in retrieving my arms.

His eyes wandered over my face. He wasn't going to let me go.

I was going to throw up.

It was the end of the road for Isabella Swan.

"Are you in trouble?" he asked, in a lower tone this time.

"You have no idea." I breathed.

We stood there for a couple of seconds, and I could see his eyes contemplating on whether to let me go or not.

The cold rain was sprinkling over my face, and my hair was sticking to my neck. I felt the chill of the weather on my skin.

He stared intensely into my eyes.

"Take care of yourself."

And that was when he let me go.

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**Okay....so what do you think about that? **

**Review would be kinda nice......**

**Kitty.  
**


	4. No Hope in the Air

**Disclaimer: SM owns Twilight and the characters, **

**A/N: A massive thank you to all that has reviewed. It means a lot to me. **

**Also thank you to PTB for being a great help.**

**I hope you enjoy this chapter. **

**Kitty.**

**

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**

**Chapter Four - No Hope in the Air  
**

_'Back to my home, back to my owner. Who screams at my tardiness, puts his hands to the sky. He says 'what can I do, with a girl who refuses to be mine'.' ~ __**Laura Marling. **_

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**_

"H-hello?"

I had burst into the kitchen. My hair was soaking wet and I had water dripping off of my face. It had taken me more than an hour to arrive at the house. Several times I had to stop to keel over to be 'sick', only to cough up phlegm.

The kitchen was untouched from yesterday, with rubbish scattered along the countertops and plates riding high. I felt queasy as soon as I staggered in, my legs were going to give way any minute now. I could feel it.

To make matters worse, the scent of the room was a concoction of sweat and cigarettes.

"Iz?" I heard Sam's rough voice ask.

I stumbled near the countertop, trying to take deep breaths.

I heard the curtain swing open, and I would have looked up if I didn't have my eyes clenched shut, hoping I wouldn't faint.

"Shit, kid. You really have fu- Iz...? Oh, fuck."

"Bells! Oh my God, I can't belie- oh my God!" I heard Rosalie cry in a croaky voice.

The shit had hit the fan.

I finally opened my eyes to see my best friend, but then I noticed her warped face. I felt all the worry and anxiety attack me as if I had a target sign on my clothes.

Her face was paler than ever. The girl in front of me didn't look like Rosalie.

She had dark shadows under her eyes, which made her look like death itself. I'd never seen her look so demolished.

I wondered what Sam thought of this look.

Evidently, Rosalie needed sleep more than I did. She looked so dehydrated. Her arid, cracked lips were noticeable to anybody. On top of this, she had all of her track marks on display, and there was a fresh hole in her neck.

It was all too much.

I pushed her out of the way and darted through the main room. I stumbled over bags and shoes, while running past some of Sam's 'pals', who probably eyed me in surprise. I clasped my hand over my mouth, and it didn't waver until I reached the bathroom.

And then I was sick.

It was mostly bile, tainted red with bits of...I didn't know what the bits were. I couldn't imagine I had any substance left in me.

My head rested on my arm as I sniffed the tears back. I still didn't feel better.

I heard some weak footsteps approaching me.

"Oh hon'," Rose's voice was breaking into tears.

I couldn't look up in fear that I would be sick again. My mind was rushing round and round - like the blades on a helicopter.

She placed her icy hand on my back, "Oh Bells, I'm so sorry. I just - I didn't know what to do. I didn't know if you were going to come back..." She started to cry - crap. I felt the guilt pour through me.

Her incessant sobs made me feel rotten, but I was sure I would've felt the same if I was in her position.

I turned my head around to look at her. It made me dizzier but as soon as I propped my head on my arm again, I started to feel slightly better.

She wiped her red cheeks. "You look awful," she told me. If only I had the energy to roll my eyes. "I'm sorry. I should have done something, but I was so fucked up. I heard a bang, like a huge bang...but you know..." Her face fell even further.

"I don't know what happened." I quietly said. The corners of my mouth pulled down. "I can't remember anything; I'm sure I was getting ready to do the job. He seemed nice, the client, his name was James."

"That bastard!" She said with vehemence. "The disgusting bastard. God, I just wished...," she started murmuring words that no person would've been able to make out. My mind was drifting, and I saw her bite her bottom lip. I was battling with my eyelids; I felt so tired.

"How are you feeling anyway, hon?" Rose asked.

My eyes opened again. I didn't even know they were closed. "...Rose, I was told I was raped. Well, they thought there was a strong possibility. So, to answer your question...I feel...I feel like shit." I'd never sounded so defeated.

There was a pause and Rosalie's eyes softened. I sighed. "Actually, that word doesn't really do justice to my feelings," I added.

"Bells...You weren't raped. Sam found you, and believe me. You weren't," she told me.

I should've felt immediate relief with her words, but I didn't.

I still had a stitch on the top of my head, my body was frail due to wandering aimlessly for hours, and I had to run like my life depended on it; just to get back to this God-forsaken house.

"That must be good news," she said. I stared into her eyes that once shined a shimmering blue. Now, they were different: dull and red.

Rosalie never asked for help, but her eyes told all. I knew that lying was a second language to her - not that she would lie to me - but her eyes easily told the truth.

I eventually nodded in response. There was an awkward pause lingering in that bathroom as I stared at her neck.

"You took another hit while I was gone?" I asked. My throat ached from the retching.

Her eyes flashed to the floor. "...Well, yeah. I needed it Bells. I was stressing. You know what I'm like when I'm stressing, I'm no good - no use. I annoy everyone around me, you remember what I was like after..." she held her breath, "Victoria."

I sighed, "I prefer not to." The dizziness was calming down. I just needed sleep and Rosalie could tell.

"Bella, you need to get to bed," she said. It sounded strange for her to be telling me what to do.

I wondered what I looked like to the outside world, just slumped over a toilet waiting to vomit. I could still feel the wet tassels of hair tucked behind my ears, and my eyes were stinging from the lack of rest. Rosalie was right. I needed sleep, badly.

"Help me up then," I said softly. She displayed a small smile and stretched her hand out to lift me.

A head rush accompanied the action, and we had to stop for a second - just in case round two decided to arrive.

"You know, I had a feeling that you wouldn't come back," she quietly said, while we were slowly walking back to our bedroom.

My eyebrows furrowed together; I couldn't understand why she would have thought that.

"What? You must have known I'd come back. I couldn't leave you by yourself to run loose. Who would have kept you in line? ...Sam? Pfft, next joke," I answered weakly.

A hum of laughter escaped from her. "I hoped you would come back but, you know, I didn't know what was wrong with you and neither did Sam, and when he said we had to bring you to the hospital...well, I thought you might not have made it."

I bit my lip. I now understood the real reason Sam made sure I received medical attention - to cover his back. He would've hated the hassle of burying another body.

"Oh, Rosie. I'm so sorry to have caused you the worry."

"Bells, don't say that! It wasn't your fault." she fell silent for a minute. "But, when I thought there was a possibility that you could've...you know. I knew you would've been alright. There would've been a welcome sign on God's door for you, Miss Swan. He would've greeted you with champagne and probably some meringue based cake...because meringue always makes me think of heaven," she then smiled.

I smiled back, well, I half smiled. I knew she was trying to be nice and comforting, but I didn't like the subject matter. Then again, that was Rosalie. I shouldn't have been surprised that she'd start talking about death - she was socially weird.

It always made me shudder.

"I doubt God would want a girl like me, Rosie. Anyway, what has God done for us lately? Fuck all."

Saying those words strummed something inside of me. I felt like I was experiencing deja vu, but was awakened by Rosalie's laughter.

"Christ, Bells, you are so depressing sometimes, y'know?" She said while I took my coat off and headed into bed.

I yawned, "I know Rose, but if God was on my side: a) I doubt He would have let me fall into this profession, b) I don't think he would have allowed me to get drugged, and c) wake up in a place where I knew nobody. On top of that, he tormented me with the gift of stress that clouded my judgment while trying to find out how to get the fuck out of that labyrinth."

Her eyes broadened. "Of course, I totally forgot. How the hell did you get out of there without paying your way out? What the hell happened?" She asked me eagerly.

"Rose, I really don't have the energy..." I groaned while sliding underneath the cool sheets.

I felt the weight of Rosalie, sitting next to me on the mattress. She grabbed hold of the covers and started to tuck me in, and my eyes started to close.

"I'm so relieved you're back, Bells," she whispered.

In a way, I was happy to be back, but I was still stuck in this horrible rut. At that time, all I could think about was going to sleep. My fatigue soon caught up with me. It dragged me down into a silent spectrum of the universe where I could have been whatever I wished, somewhere far away from here.

***

The sounds of somebody sniffing, and the clicking noise of bottle tops erupted into the air, which caused my eyelids to flicker. It only felt like I had been asleep for five seconds; the first thing I noticed was that the sick feeling had disappeared.

I turned my head toward the window; I could see the sinister blue sky shadowing through the dirty netting. I wondered how long I had been in this bed; I wasn't even sure what time I got in.

My thoughts were interrupted by Rosalie's quiet humming, and my eyes spun towards the mirror. She was applying a dark eye-shadow on and around her eyelids.

She was doing one hell of a messy job, as it came out in a smudge-y pattern.

Her eyes instantly shone with recognition when she caught me staring.

"So you decided to wake up?" she asked, and resumed with her make-up.

"What time is it?" I asked. My voice was croaky.

"It's about quarter past seven," she replied.

"How long have I been asleep?"

Rosalie stopped for a second to think, "Since eleven o'clock,"

I didn't know what time I got in. I didn't even know what time I had woken up in the hospital. I still felt groggy, but my stomach was aching and it started to complain.

"Is that you?" Rosalie asked. She had a mocking ring to her voice, which pinched on my nerves.

"Well, I haven't eaten since yesterday," I answered defensively.

"Neither have I," she retorted.

I wondered what had brought this mood on.

I slowly got out of bed, even though I didn't feel a hundred percent. I knew that Rosalie wasn't in the mood to play nurse, and bring me up a bowl of soup or whatever we had in that shitty excuse for a kitchen.

I picked up my flannel robe and wrapped it around me to warm myself from the bitter cold that permeated the air and pinched at my skin.

I gave Rosalie a second glance as I moved toward the door.

She was still drawing make up on her face like a five year old.

I bent down in front of her. "Look, come here, you need to merge the color in," I advised her. I blended the eye-shadow into her skin.

She flinched away from my touch, offended.

"Excuse me, Bella, but I don't need you poking around. Besides, I'm the one who gets most of the customers here, so I know what I'm doing." She said while staring at me.

I could see that her pupils were dilated, and my own eyes rolled instinctively.

"What the fuck are you on now Rosalie?" I asked sternly.

"It's none of your business," she sniffed.

I chewed the inside of my cheek; she was pissing me off. She may have been my best friend but she annoyed me daily.

"Yes, it is. I know you're in a mood and it's not fair. I'm the one who has to live with it. I just wanted to know what kind of substance that you're on today because obviously you can't cope without being on something. I hate that you expect the rest of us to have to put up with your mood swings. It really fucking annoys me when you're like this," I snapped.

She gasped. "I can't believe you just said that. It's my _own_ business if I'm taking something - not yours. Besides, Sam told me that it would do me good," she sniped back at me.

Un-fucking-believable. "So, you listen to Sam now? After all the times you've stabbed the knife in his back. You think his advice is the best?"

She looked sheepish, but she still tried to stare her best daggers underneath the pile of golden hair that had been raggedly fixed on her pretty head.

"Are we having a nice bitching match about Sam in here?" I heard a shrill tone enter the situation. My eyes shifted towards the doorway.

Lauren was nonchalantly leaning on the door frame. She was wearing a tight blue dress that just reached under her butt, and her roots had been retouched since I last saw her. I was sure she wasn't spending her time worrying about me last night.

"It's a private conversation," I retorted.

She smirked, "Well, I'm _so_ sorry that I interrupted you two dykes' important convo."

I scowled. "What the hell do you want? This room is no place for the glorified white trash." It came out of my mouth automatically, and when I thought it over I knew I was contradicting myself slightly, but Lauren didn't seem to realize.

"I'm glad you're feeling better, Swan," she said sarcastically. "However, I didn't come up here to seek such _fun _company. I'm here because Sam wants to talk to you, Iz. Right now!"

Something inside of me squirmed.

I didn't want to talk to Sam because I knew there would be plenty of questions and plenty of blame. I had a feeling most of that blame would land on me.

I hesitantly nibbled my lip. I hoped he would give me a small slap on the wrist, but all I could picture were his frosty words and that belittling smile, which I loathed so much.

"Pronto," Lauren added.

"Well, I'll be down soon."

"Did you hear me? He wants to talk to you now, Swan." Her words cut sharper than a razor.

"He'll have to wait," I decided to put up a fight. I didn't want to go downstairs right that second.

I wanted time to prepare myself.

Rosalie chucked her lipstick on the vanity table, indicating that she had decided she was ready. In reality, her face looked like it had been shot with a cosmetics bag.

She swayed out of the room as if the small argument between us had never occurred. As soon as Rosalie was out of the room, Lauren's face scrunched up like she had been sucking on batteries.

She sniggered in a school-girl manner. "She was fucking useless last night. High as the sky. Getting on everybody's nerves with all that babbling," she told me, her evil eyes returning once again. "She wouldn't stop going on about that stupid bear of yours, and then she was crying. It was cringe worthy, if I'm honest," she sounded so callous. It was as if she was a storyteller reading aloud to little kids.

That bitch only cared about herself.

"I'm guessing you were dying your hair when I was out cold." I tried to act like I didn't care, but deep down I was pissed off because she had a heart of stone.

She tilted her head to the side, and smiled at me with false sweetness.

"I swear you would've made a better psychic."

I could've slapped that smile straight off her ugly face.

She thought she was better than the rest of us because of her years of experience, but really it was the harsh reality of her life settling into her soul, and she certainly wasn't born into high society.

"Anyway, you should exercise those scrawny legs of yours and get down to see Sam, since he wants to talk. Straight away. That means now, 'kid'." _The patronizing bitch._

My fists were probably white by now.

"Oh, honey, if you'd just listened. I told you he was going to have to wait." I could play her game.

A scornful look assembled on Lauren's hard features. "Sam doesn't wait, Iz. You know that."

"Look, I'll be down soon!" I snapped.

She didn't say goodbye, just gave another cold look that she probably thought spelled out 'watch your tone, bitch'. She left me, stomping down the stairs, probably gone to kiss Sam's ass.

I sighed, and ran my fingers through my hair. I could tell the rest of the day was going to be horrible; filled with accusations and Sam getting annoyed because I simply couldn't remember.

I decided to ignore my stomach growling and go to the bathroom to get cleaned up. My body was clammy, although deep down I knew that a bath now was just an excuse to buy time.

I tiptoed quietly down the hallway and into the bathroom.

I pushed the hamper against the door, and ran a hot bath. I wanted to forget what had happened. Well, I was already half way there.

It sent shivers down my spine trying to recover memories.

I dipped my toes into the bathtub to test the water. It was fine, so I dunked the rest of myself in.

I tried to concentrate on making myself clean. I scrubbed every part of my bare skin with the sponge and soap, and tried to be careful when I reached the new bruises on my skin. I still couldn't scrub off the invisible dirt - the occupation that I'd fallen into, the lies that I had to tell and the violence I had to put up with.

I sighed; I was so angry. There were a lot of things in my life that I would've preferred to forget - most of them revolved around this house.

I shampooed my hair, vigorously scrubbing my scalp. Afterwards, I added the strawberries and freesia conditioner. I loved the way it gave my hair have a velvety feeling.

Velvet.

My mind averted back to Dr. Cullen and what he did for me. It's weird to have thought that, _what he did for me._ I couldn't understand why I started to feel an ache inside of my chest.

He was just a man who had helped me, and that was all. Maybe he had different intentions that I didn't know about - and I never would. I would probably never see his heartbreaking face again.

I laughed nervously to myself.

_His heartbreaking face._

I bet he went home to his wife and dismissed what had happened.

Just a silly little girl who got herself in a lot of trouble - trouble was the perfect description for me.

I clambered out of the bath and noticed all the steamy streaks that drifted off my body. I loved looking at the vapors; they made me feel disinfected.

I toweled my body and my hair. At least physically I felt better.

I wriggled back into my flannel robe, and wiped away the steam from the mirror.

I was staring back at myself.

I didn't know what I looked like earlier today, but I must've looked slightly better now. There were no smudges of make-up. You could see my plain face and the stitched up cut on my forehead.

I wondered what happened to my forehead to have required stitches.

I sighed for the umpteenth time today, and headed back to my bedroom. I wanted to get back into bed, but I needed food. I needed to restore my strength.

In the room, I opened my robe preparing to add moisturizer onto my exposed skin. I squirted the lotion onto my face and body feeling the cool sensation. I started to relax as my skin didn't feel as tight anymore.

"You knew I needed to talk to you," Sam's voice disturbed the stillness.

It took me a couple of seconds to realize he was watching me, and my nerves jumped.

I gasped and stumbled back, immediately tying my robe together.

"Don't you knock!" I shrieked at him and his blasé attitude.

He grumbled a laugh. "Don't worry, I've seen it all before, kid."

My eyebrows contorted together and I felt myself squirm inside of my robe, feeling an itchy redness on my chest.

"I would appreciate you knocking beforehand. Don't I have a right for a bit of privacy around here?"

His musky brown eyes squinted for a second, but his intruding smile beamed. I felt my hatred burn in his presence.

"I'd appreciate you to do what you're told," he sniped at me.

I hesitated for a second. "I just needed a bath. Christ, Sam, I just came back from the hospital."

"No, Iz, you came back from the hospital eight hours ago." I recognized his serious tone, and gulped. "Now, I've been thinking, and we need to talk about what happened last night. You cost me some serious money."

"What?" I asked, surprised. How did I cost him money? Somehow it _must_ have been my fault, since Sam had a response to everything.

"We had to cancel four appointments last night, two of yours and two of Rosalie's, since she was being a real pain in the ass after we left you on the sidewalk. She wouldn't work." He sighed, irritated. "I had to force the H onto her, thank God she took it. That shit really does wonders on her. At least she could salvage some money from last night."

I pinched my arm, secretively. I was trying to hold my temper, but it was like trying to pin down a bull.

"Of course, Sam. I can now see how I was such an inconvenience last night. It was just bad timing that my client tried to rape me." I attempted to say it calmly, but there were cracks in my voice.

Sam shook his head, still smiling. Ever fucking smiling.

"Oh, baby, you know I was worried about you last night," he started to approach me with sturdy steps; I didn't fall for his bullshitting tone. I folded my arms in a huff. "You know how I like work to be done, and that bastard won't be harming you anymore. It's in the past, Iz." He placed his hand on my face and stroked my cheek.

I flinched away from his touch. I knew what he had done with those hands. The things he had done...he ought to have been locked up for a lifetime.

"You don't know that," I responded, so quietly, I had difficulty hearing myself.

He obviously heard me.

His hand tightened around my face, digging his fingers into my cheeks.

"Stop fucking back-chatting me, kid, you might one day regret it."

I whimpered at the sharp pains he was sending me. My heart was beating erratically.

"Get off of me!" I cried.

He shoved my head through the air and my body flung backwards.

My hand immediately flew up to my cheeks, trying to nurse them better.

I sharpened my eyes.

"Kid, you knew that was coming," he told me.

"You're such a prick." I said with all the courage I had.

"You're such a whore." He started to laugh, "You could've escaped. . . why the hell did you come back? ...Unless you actually wanted to come back?"

I fell silent, brooding with rage.

"Obviosuly you did. That's the reason why you left your precious home, right? Didn't get enough attention," he coldly said.

"Eat shit!"

"Did I touch a nerve?" He knew how to wind me up. I felt like a puppet with strings.

"You knew I came back because everything I have is here," I defended myself.

"Sure, like it would've mattered. I know you left with nothing the first time, you could have left that hospital the way you were."

"Like hell I could, Sam! I had no health insurance. I had to make a quick escape. It was so fucking close. You know a doctor stopped me, and it was such a close call. If he wasn't so damn..." I was searching for a word, what could I have called Dr. Cullen? "...damn, _nice_, then I think I would've been in a very different situation right now!"

He arched an eyebrow. "That was careless on your part, you shouldn't have been so sloppy." He stepped closer to me. My heart started pumping again.

"I'm sorry, have you escaped a hospital lately?" I retorted sarcastically.

He smirked. "Just admit it. This is home to you, now. You just love to complain," he concluded.

I gasped. "That - is - such - bullshit!" I said every word like a butcher cutting a cleaver through meat.

"Listen to yourself. There is another reason why you came back, and deep down you know the reason why," he stared down at me, with that horrible look I'd seen a year ago.

"No, Sam. I don't know the reason. You're just pissed because you know Rose will leave with me when I go. Where will your income come from then, huh? I'm sure they would all _love_ to switch to Lauren."

He laughed, "I always love your bitchy side, kid, that's why you've got such a good cliental."

"Fuck you!" I screamed.

"You already have."

Then he did something that made my skin crawl.

He lunged into my face and mashed his lips onto mine.

I felt the cold and wet sensation of his kiss force upon me. He squeezed his hands onto my ass, it really hurt. My robe suddenly began to ride.

Fury overwhelmed me.

I stepped back from the one-sided kiss, and slapped him, clean across his face.

_Bastard._

Sam inhaled sharply, his expression in between surprise and rage.

"You bitch," he growled.

He slapped me back, just as hard.

I could've sworn it looked like a scene out of Hollywood - but far grittier.

The force of his hand made me fall to my knees onto the old carpet.

Even if it was carpet I fell upon, it still shook a pain up my kneecaps.

"And don't I regret it!" I spat at him, tears flooding into my eyes.

He sharpened his stare. "I came up here to tell you that you're working tonight, Swan. Whether you like it or not."

I just wanted to give up.

I couldn't let him have the enjoyment of seeing a tear roll down my cheek.

"Oh, and before I go, I have some advice," his calm smile reattached to his face. "Next time you take a bath, remember to shave. It's fucking repulsive."


	5. My Angry Hero

Disclaimer: SM owns Twilight and all the characters I use in this story.

**A/N: Thank you to the two beta's who helped me on this chapter. You both did a tremendous job, so thank you very much - it means a lot to me. Also, thank you to all who have reviewed, you all make my day - seriously!**

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**Chapter Five - My Angry Hero  
**

_"Hey sister, you just movin' too fast,_  
_You screwin' up the quota,_  
_You doin' your piece work too fast,_  
_Now you get off your mustang Sally_  
_You ain't goin' nowhere, you ain't goin' nowhere."_ ~ **Patti Smith.**

* * *

"Sam wants you to vacuum the floor." Lauren pointed at the worn, wooden floor with her dainty finger, she was wagging it like she owned the place.

I arched an eyebrow. "No, Lauren. I'm sure he asked you."

Typical. Lauren was always landing her work on me; she was such a lazy-assed bitch!

She squinted her boring gray eyes at me. At that moment, I had a sudden urge to tear the hair out of her scalp.

"I've just painted my nails and Sam told us it's all about the presentation. So, what will Emmett think if he sees a chip on my nail?" she sniped at me.

I laughed coldly. "Oh sweetie, it's not your nails you should be worrying about."

Lauren gaped at me. I was sure if she kept her mouth open for any longer she would have had a nice collection of flies in there. I walked out of the room and up the stairs before she could say anything else. I was feeling rather proud of my verbal handy-work.

"Bitch!" she screamed loud enough for me to hear. _Too late skank, the damage has been done._

I smiled to myself, although it was a false type of happiness. Nothing could comfort me from the experience I had endured the previous week; it would forever be stamped into my mind. I thought I already had it bad, but fuck, I never knew I could have been so wrong. Apart from having to deal with what had happened, I also had Sam giving me the cold shoulder, along with frosty glares and calling me every name under the sun. _I tried not to care._

Sam had an important friend coming over to the house called Emmett, which was annoying as hell because it was a Monday, and Mondays were the only days I was able to go out. Sam was demanding that everybody had to clean the house for his special visitor, but I got up extra early to do my part so I was able to go on my customary outing.

I walked passed the other two bedrooms on the second floor. The first one belonged to Sam - his room was off-limits. I had only been in Sam's room a couple of times.

The room next to Sam's belonged to Lauren and Jessica. I heard soft movements behind the door of their room and that gut-awful guilt came back to haunt me.

I remembered Lauren being infuriated when she found out that she had to share with the new girl. Poor Jessica was all I could say, although I don't think it did her any justice. She still hadn't talked much. I made attempts in the past, but she always replied at a fast pace under her breath that caused her quiet words to merge together. Therefore, nobody knew what the hell she was talking about.

When I passed mine and Rosalie's room, I was tempted to knock on the door to wake her before I left. I decided to resist, and journeyed towards the bathroom instead, to do a safe look-over of my appearance.

She had only had four hours of sleep in the past three days and I would see her later anyway. I hoped she wouldn't do anything stupid while I was out.

I analyzed my appearance in the mirror. I supposed it would have to do, although I couldn't dismiss the bruise on my cheek. It had faded, but I did a good job at concealing it with foundation, as without foundation it was definitely still noticeable. My skin color was as white as milk.

I sighed when I thought of Sam hitting me that night. He had always been good with his hands.

Sam wouldn't stop stressing about the night James tried to kill me. It sounded as if Sam actually cared for my well-being, but think again. Sam was taking it personally; he thought that James was getting to him through me. That was typical Sam behavior.

Even though I knew James wouldn't come back; I was still finding it hard to keep myself calm.

Nothing like that had _ever _happened to me before_._

I snapped out of those negative thoughts. I needed to concentrate on the future.

My eyes drifted down towards my clothes. I was wearing the most appropriate attire I could find in my wardrobe - a baby-blue shirt with denim shorts. I still hadn't gotten around to fixing my wardrobe. So, mine and Rosalie's clothes were in a messy heap on the floor. It was a big inconvenience, because I had to chuck everything under the bed everytime we had a customer.

I grabbed my toothbrush and pressed a big, fat dollop of toothpaste along the bristles. Welcoming the minty freshness into my mouth, I opened the bathroom window to let some fresh air in and glimpsed outside to see what the weather was like. There was that post-rain smell in the air and the concrete was damp, but the sun was already glistening onto the roofs of the other houses.

It wasn't an award-winning view.

Our house was squeezed onto the corner of Lower Sycamore Drive surrounded by other pig-sty's. The houses I could see from where I was standing held the clichéd inhabitants of such a crappy neighborhood.

The house that was opposite ours belonged to a couple in their mid-forties; they were both alcoholics. Their hobbies - other than drinking - were listening to heavy-metal music and having loud arguments on the street, which is great when you have a job like mine and you've missed all the soaps on TV.

Then there was Mr. Sales, who incidentally was a client of ours. He lived alone, was in his late-thirties, had a dead end job and was eating himself into an early grave. I felt sorry for him - in a way. I say 'in a way' because he was a client that I dreaded. I didn't like getting banged by a fat, blubbering man - as harsh as I sounded.

The next house I could see was up for sale. It had been up for sale since I've lived here. So, I was guessing that it was one royal shit-hole.

After I had done scrutinizing the neighborhood, I popped my toothbrush back into my toiletry bag and my mind returned to my future plans, which made me feel a little better. I jogged down the hallway and then pounded down the stairs, although I slipped on the last step and skidded onto my butt, which kind of hurt.

I quickly picked myself up, trying to salvage my dignity, and then stepped into the main room of the house.

Paul was sitting on the leather chair, having a smoke. His eyes rose when I entered the room and he winked.

I tried to hold back a grimace since I wanted him do me a favor.

I sashayed over to the chair and handed him a twenty.

"It's a Monday, Paul. I'd love it if you could take me to the library. Now would be great." I even shined a smile that would have made Barbie proud.

He blew a cloud of smoke from his lips. God, I wanted a cigarette.

"Does Sam know?" he asked.

"Well I have been doing this for the past year. So, to answer your question - Sam knows."

He made a indistinctive sound with his throat.

I didn't talk moron, but I guessed that was him telling me he'd take me.

"Thanks," I said. Thanking the guys was as fun as eating gravel.

He leaned closer to my face.

"I can think of ways you can repay me," his voice hummed in my ear. This was his attempt at trying to be seductive. It didn't make my panties wet; it made me want to lock up my legs with iron chains.

"I'm sure you can," I replied blandly.

He winked once again. He really should get that twitch in his eye sorted out.

Lauren suddenly crashed through the door with the vacuum I had to stifle my laughter, because she looked clueless. She was wearing another one of her short dresses accompanied with four inch stilettos, and to top the look off she had a cigarette hanging out of her mouth. Classy.

"Nice look Lauren; I'm sure our clientele will go crazy over it," I sneered. I didn't really care about our 'clientele', but I knew Lauren did.

She shot me a classic Lauren look, squinting at me as if she had venom welling up in her eyes.

Paul wandered right next to her. "Don't strain yourself there, babe." He joined in on the taunting - probably to make me more fuck-happy.

Then he slapped her ass.

That just made me laugh harder.

She removed the cigarette from her mouth and hissed something under her breath.

He looked back at me and grinned. He was proud of his little show. "Let's go then, since you're so desperate to go to the library."

"Loser," Lauren mumbled, but I heard her.

My fingers gestured how much I loved her right back as we made our way out of the door. I heard her growl while I exited the kitchen – oh well.

I always loved the feeling of stepping out of the house. The fresh wind brushed straight past my skin. I inhaled, taking in the freeing scent.

If only Paul the Pervert wasn't checking out my ass at the same time.

I tried not to sigh, since he was doing me a favor - of sorts. Even if I had to pay him, he still didn't have to take me.

When he was done pretending that he 'liked' the color of my shorts, I followed him into his rusty Ford Maverick that he had taken me countless of times to the library. I must have been the only person on the planet who got excited about going to the library, but I loved it nonetheless.

One of the reasons why I treasured my customary outing was because I didn't have anybody looking over my shoulder. I could be the real me: the bookworm. Well, I was a bookworm to an extent. I loved art books. I loved photography. It was all I've ever wanted to be - a fashion photographer. It was my secret career choice since I I've never told anybody about it, except Rosalie, because I knew that they would all laugh and sneer.

Paul clicked the keys into his ignition and the choky sound of his car erupted. We sped off into town, and I leaned my head on the window and felt the vibration of the engine shake through me.

"So, babe, what's been happening lately?" Paul asked.

I rolled my eyes.

He thought that using caring tactics when the guys weren't around would lure me into bed.

"Just been having sex with guys I don't know, y'know, the usual."

"Oh..." He turned around a corner "...Y'know between you and me, I've always thought about going into that business. Well, maybe just for a day. Man, all the MILFs that will come to my door. Christ...and the pay!"

I snorted, "Are you kidding me?"

"Pfft, fuck no," he answered.

I was shaking my head at his idiocy. He really didn't get it.

"You'd be lucky to have a clientele like that," I told him.

He fell silent for a moment.

I sighed, "You know I'm right about this Paul. So quit thinking of a comeback."

"No, you're wrong. It's different for men. Hot women don't get sex because men think they're out of their league - so they never get hit on. That's why I think man-whores get hotter customers."

What. The. Fuck.

"That's a load of bullshit - that never happens!" I was exasperated to say the least. "I've never had a remotely good looking customer, because selling yourself is...is...demoralizing! You get horrible clients who are into things no normal woman _or_ man would comply to. Paul, you might think it would be the best job in the world, but after having to sleep with a man whose only common sense is stuck in their dick, well the novelty just wears off. Some might even say it gets kind of boring!" I practically screeched my opinions at him.

He started laughing. Paul's laugh alone made my statement crumble.

"What? Get bored of sex? Never. You know what your problem is, Swan? You just love to complain. It's your thing. You love to be the wet blanket because at the end of the day, you know I'm right, and you hate it."

I felt my eyebrows heighten - I swore they had risen so far that they were almost touching my hairline.

"I bet ignorance is bliss," I muttered.

"What?" he asked.

I sighed, "Nothing _baby _- you wouldn't understand."

I saw my destination approaching us - finally. I'd never felt so relieved to see the sight of the small library. At last, peace and solitude.

Paul came to a halt that caused my body to jerk forward.

He winked, "See you at five, baby."

I stared blankly at Paul and his overly gelled hair.

"Bye Paul," I answered monotonously.

I got out of the car, and then stopped with my hand gripped onto the top of the car door.

"By the way, Paul" - Paul's face reconnected with mine - "I think you should go into the sex trade, although you might wanna do a bit of research, since male prostitutes get more men calling round than women. Of course, you knew that didn't you?"

I shot him a goodbye smile, and walked off. The look on his face was priceless.

I was glad when I entered the library and the familiar musty smell of books greeted me. It was my real home, and after the week I had, it felt great to be back - even if I wasn't allowed to stay for long. For the past week, my mind had been plagued with the thought that somebody out there wanted to hurt me. I was going to have to shake it off and forget about it and I knew that my favorite place would help me.

I had soon learned what Sam's role was after I had been induced with the date-rape drug. He had burst into my room, with Rosalie stumbling after him. I was inside the wardrobe, exposed and out cold.

James was ready to get his money's worth while I was sedated, and then Sam told me he would have sliced my neck.

My hand instinctively grabbed my neck, checking it was still in one peace.

I hated thinking over the details, it made me feel sick and Goddamn scared.

"Good afternoon," I greeted Angela, the librarian.

"Good Afternoon Bella, how is everything?" she asked.

"Just fine thanks, and you?"

She grinned, "Just fine."

They were the exact words we used every time I came in. It was like they had been pre-recorded.

It was the beginning of April and that meant all the latest issues of my beloved magazines were out. I walked straight to the magazine rack, excited to indulge into the latest _Vogue._ _Vogue _was my favorite. It made me hunger after my ambition, wanting to be a part of the glamorous world of models and haute couture.

Sometimes, I thought I was teasing myself, staring at the photos in the magazines, because deep down I knew that this life was a _very_ long way away.

I wistfully sighed. The colors used in the shots were so vibrant. The editorial was about the colorful sixties and all the models were in psychedelic floral and wore shift dresses.

Obsessing over magazines such as _Vogue _excited me more than sex, which sounded sad, but it was true.

I was sure a man had never made me orgasm, because in this industry you entertained the man. Not the other way around.

The glossy magazine left a tingly sensation beneath my fingertips. I could have spent hours watching over the exact details of every picture. The simple but beautiful designs of Chanel or _Vogue's_ top ten 'it bags' - each one made with quality.

I smiled at the photos.

I remembered when I was ten and my dad had bought me a disposable camera that I took everywhere. I remembered taking photos of our town hall, photos of my friend's birthdays, and the route my mom and I used to take on our Sunday outings to the Movie Theater.

That made my heart ache, and I hated that it ached for my old life. I did what I always did and ignored the feeling. It was water under the bridge.

I turned the page and stared at a skinny Brazilian, modeling _Armani_.

I wondered how much she earned for that job. Would she have received more money than her agent? I bet she received a larger cut from her agent than I got from Sam. It was hard to leave when Sam was constantly robbing us of our earnings.

After I had rifled through the latest editions of every fashion magazine they had in the rack, it was time to go. It was only ten to five but I knew what Paul was like. I groaned under my breath; _I didn't even have time to read an actual book._

I picked myself up and headed for the door. I was leaving ten minutes early, but Paul was one of those guys who told you he would be there 'around' five. That meant he would either have been early or been late.

I walked passed the reception.

"Bye Angela."

"Bye Bella!" she responded enthusiastically. Even though I didn't feel like smiling, I did it anyway. She was a nice girl and I would never drag her into my problems. She was the type of girl who seemed blissfully unaware of what problems lay in Forks – and that was the way it was going to stay if I had something to do with it.

The cool spring air embraced me when I reached the sidewalk and my eyes automatically scanned the road; I couldn't see Paul's rusty car anywhere.

My eyes then stopped on a man. He was leaning on a fur tree, since there was woodland opposite the library. I'd never seen him before. He seemed aloof, and the sheer look of him made me feel immediately uncomfortable. He gave me a hard stare for what must have been a minute, and then all of a sudden, his stern look fell into a lazy smile. I shyly turned my face to the ground.

I didn't know him.

I looked up again. He was tall and had blond hair - he could've been James for all I knew.

I suddenly felt unnerved. What if he _was_ James?

The few images I could remember about that night flashed back to me, and they made my heart race.

I needed to forget about that night. _Forget it, Bella._

My mind turned to the daydream that always calmed me down: escaping. There was nothing in the world that I wanted more; the thought was permanently etched into my mind. When was the perfect time to leave? How much money would I need? Where would I go?

There was one thing that was holding me back: Rosalie. I could only leave when she was off the drugs. She was bound to come off the soon - she had to. She wanted out as badly as I did.

I knew exactly what I wanted to do when we left. We would run off to an up-beat, swanky city and New York seemed to have captured my heart.

I pictured the bustling streets and the yellow cabs driving erratically around the roads. I had never been to New York, but I knew that was where I wanted to go. Rose and I would live in a studio apartment and I would capture everything through my camera lens while Rosalie would model clothes and be the next Agness Deyn or Heidi Klum. We would be dreadfully cosmopolitan and only wear Manolas and drink a ton of overpriced coffee.

I felt my lips slant.

I sounded stupid. Even hearing my own words in my head made me feel embarrassed.

I noticed that the guy had left, and my muscles eased. _Thank God._ That finally put my mind to rest, while the wait for Paul was getting outrageous.

My eyes were stuck on the space in the street where Paul's car should have been. Why the hell was he never on time?

My eye was caught by a smoky gray Jaguar that was parked further up the road. Was it there before?

_Christ, why __am I so paranoid?!_

I admired the car as it gleamed in the light. It was a car that Rosalie would have loved to own. She used to have a thing for shiny cars.

Those memories seemed like a different world.

Movement woke me up from my daydream.

The Jag door swung open.

They must have wanted to stop off at the library, but I was sure the library was closed.

A hot rush reached my cheeks as the person must have caught me staring at the car. Jesus, I could be such a moron at times. I bet the person noticed me ogling - mouth open, the works!

My eyes shrank away for a few moments as I heard their footsteps. Their footsteps were heavy and slow - they sounded as if they belonged to a man, and they were growing louder and louder.

I looked up, but my eyes hesitated. I didn't want to radiate the wrong signals.

When I eventually glanced up, I swore I was hallucinating.

My stomach swallowed itself up and my hands shook uncontrollably.

It was _him._

He was instantly recognizable – I didn't know why I even thought the man earlier could have been James.

Tall with dirty blond hair, rough stubble and a menacing smile.

He must have been watching me.

This couldn't have been a coincidence! I wished I raced back to the library to see if it was still open, but my mind went blank.

James was still walking slowly towards me. He was little more than fifteen yards away.

My eyes desperately searched the street - there was nobody there.

I didn't know what to do.

Run?

Scream?

Flashbacks clouded my mind; James ripping off my slip and staring at my naked body, his rough hands shoving me down, bruising me so easily. That was his personal taste of entertainment.

A light suddenly shined in my eyes causing me to squint. I realized what it was and my heart skipped a beat - and not in a good way.

He had a knife.

From where I was standing, I could see the deep grooves of the knife and all I could think about was my neck. I was scared shitless.

Without another moment's hesitation; I ran.

I launched myself straight up the street, hoping I could reach the busy part of town and lose him. I knew it was wishful thinking; it took fifteen minutes to get there by foot.

Why did I have to be on the most lifeless road in Forks?

I focused on my running. I had to take long strides and I had to be quick.

I heard James' pace accelerate and I screamed. The pitch of the sound scored my throat.

My body was shoved on autopilot. After thirty seconds of running, I was breathless. There was a throbbing stitch forming the left side of my chest.

"Help!" I cried, "Please, help!" but my attempts were in vain.

I snapped my head around. James was closer to me than I thought.

The sight made me whimper. I didn't know what the hell I was going to do.

When I looked back, the front of my sneaker caught the ridge of an uneven grate in the ground. It caused my body to lurch forward.

My heart came to a standstill. I was flying in the air, and it scared the shit out of me. In no time, I was down on the ground.

My kneecaps and hands scraped along the concrete and I felt the tiny stones pierce into my skin.

That was fucking painful, but it wouldn't have been as painful as that knife ripping into me.

My head spun around; James had caught up with me.

"Get the fuck away from me!" I shrieked.

I seemed to have no options, nothing I could do.

Then his hand shot out and pulled me up by my hair.

That fucking hurt too.

I involuntarily screeched and my body was sent into auto-pilot as he raggedly pulled me up, twisting and tearing the hairs out of my scalp.

He laughed; the sound was sadistic and spiked with a twisted joy. I knew I couldn't go down like this.

My leg fiercely ejected and kicked him where it hurt. James grunting was the best sound - ever.

That bought me time, as he did the instinctive male thing and cupped his balls while I staggered up onto my feet. I felt the tiny stones falling into my sneakers, the stones pinching the soles of my feet.

I continued running, even though I had a limp. My kneecaps felt like they were on fire and I was aware of the sticky blood dribbling down my legs.

I screamed. My scream was so hoarse and it ached coming from my lungs. I knew it was useless, but I feared it would be the last sounds I ever made.

I felt the pearls of sweat on my back and, due to exhaustion, my breaths were short and painful.

I needed to keep running.

I had to.

Everything hurt. I wanted to cry. I was _going_ to cry.

There was still a long way to go and yet, I still kept running, even though I knew it was pointless.

I turned my head around again. The way James' face screwed up seemed somewhat fanatical. I knew he would only settle for me in small pieces.

There was no way I could escape.

Then something glinted in the background up ahead - a silver car.

My heart tightened and my feet started pounding on the concrete harder. I needed to stop that car.

James turned around too, and then his running started to waver.

He looked at me again.

He knew what I was going to do.

I darted into the middle of the road, waving my hands frantically.

My life depended on it.

"Stop!" I screamed, well, half screamed. My voice was worn and broken.

The car immediately came to a halt and the sudden screech of brakes rang into the atmosphere. I could've been run over. I would have preferred a car crushing my bones than to watch a man dicing me up.

My hands slammed onto the hood while my eyes flittered up to the sidewalk where I had been running for dear life. I saw James suddenly racing down the opposite direction.

I glanced back to the car and my eyes widened.

"Get in!" Dr. Cullen ordered.

I couldn't believe it. Out of all the men I had encountered, the two that I really didn't want to see turned up into my life within minutes of each other.

I flung myself in the car, still panting.

"You've got some serious explaining to do," he told me.

I was still breathless when he parked around the bend. My body had never felt so comfortable collapsing in a disarrayed state before a man. I felt sticky; sweat was dripping down my cleavage and back as if I was having a shower in it.

"I don't understand why you won't let me go after him!" he said sharply.

I'd never felt so grateful towards a man in my life - even if he was angry with me. I glanced at his face; his chiseled features seemed intense as if he was brooding over some deadening form of rage. God, I forgot how good looking he was.

"It won't make any difference if you go after him," I spoke softly. My heart was pounding against my ribcage.

He exhaled an irritated breath, "We need to go to the police."

"No, we don't!" I shot back.

"Renee, you just told me that you got chased by a man with a knife! I'm sorry, is that an everyday occurrence?" he snapped back.

My face collapsed in my hands. _I wouldn't cry._ God, I was in such a mess. I had forgotten about telling him my 'name'.

"Are you listening to me?!"

"Yes." My voice was a near whisper.

He paused, "Well, good."

He made me feel like a kid, and I hated that.

"There are so many unanswered questions Renee, and I really don't know where to start," he stated.

I knew he was staring at me, but I didn't dare emerge from my hands to meet his face.

"Well, how about when you escaped from the hospital. Why did you leave in such a hurry? I knew I shouldn't have let you go."

I sniffed, "It's a really long story."

"If you're in trouble..." I thought he was going to end it with 'you can tell me' but it was as if he didn't want to know.

I bit my lower lip. I was cornered; I had to tell him the truth.

I lifted my face and breathed in.

"My name's not Renee." I was surprised at how loud my voice was. "It's Isabella, but I prefer Bella," I confessed.

My eyes nervously drifted up to meet Dr. Cullen's pair of brilliant emeralds.

His expression seemed hard, and that scared me a little bit, like when you respected somebody and they were telling you off. Each minute of his silence made me feel more and more uncomfortable. _Just say something - anything._

"I know you don't have to believe me," I added.

He then stared at his steering wheel. "But I want to," he softly said.

_Why did my heart have to flutter when he said that?_

I knew exactly why, but I didn't want to admit it.

I smirked. "That's sweet of you."

Shit, it sounded bitchier than I intended. It was because I felt nervous. I was shy, so I always got defensive.

"Hey, little girl, I'm helping you. If you're going to be giving me some of your precious teenage attitude, then I'm sorry I'm wasting my time."

The sheer sound of his voice wounded me. I didn't think it was possible for him to make me feel smaller.

"Sorry," I quietly replied.

He stared down at my legs and his eyes squinted.

"Shit," he sighed, "You're gonna get blood on my interior."

I felt my cheeks flare_._

"I-I fell..." I sounded pathetic.

He reached into the back of car and when he came back he had a box nestled between his hands. First, he took a tissue out and then wiped my exposed legs.

I knew it was an inappropriate time, but I could have sworn my pulse thudded that much harder when his hand stroked up my calf and onto my kneecap.

He was so close to me. I could have smelt his aftershave - not too potent, simply inviting to the senses. If I leaned in further, his hair would've tickled the end of my nose.

Or if he turned around...he could've kissed me...delicate kisses leaving a sweet taste on my tongue. His fingers brushing on my cheeks, making me feel like...someone special.

I blushed thinking about it.

Why_ was_ I thinking about it? He was being a grade A jack-ass.

"Do you know why that man was chasing after you? Or is it a new fitness regime to help you train for the Forks High track team?" His tone had eased and his eyes briefly looked up at mine, almost glistening.

He then threw the tissue onto my shorts.

I couldn't help but smile secretly, even if I did have a blooded tissue on my shorts.

He stripped the protective paper from a band aid and smoothed it over my graze.

"I don't go to school," I told him.

His head retreated and turned around to give me a proper look. His brow furrowed together like what I'd just said was out of this world.

"I thought you were still at school?" he asked.

I shook my head.

"How old are you?"

"I'm eighteen," I answered honestly.

"Just eighteen or going on nineteen?"

"Going on nineteen," _Crap, I had a feeling that the conversation was going to go somewhere it really shouldn't._

_I needed to think of something._

"Bella..." him saying my name distracted my thoughts. No 'kid', no 'Iz' "Have you told your parents about what has happened?"

I gritted my teeth together. Were we really going to talk about my parents?

"They don't know," I answered.

I heard him sigh.

"Don't you think you should tell them?" He urged me.

I gazed at his beseeching face. He didn't know me at all, and I had an aching feeling inside that made me want to tell him _everything._

"I don't live with my parents anymore." _He was going to ask me why._ "And I don't want to talk about it; it's my business."

He blinked, "Well, who do you live with then?"

"Friends," I answered bluntly. _Friends my ass._

His eyebrows flinched as if I was talking nonsense. "How do you keep up with the rent? Well, assuming that you are renting a place."

"I work," I answered. I wished he would stop the interrogation.

He stared at me, widening his eyes a little for me to elaborate.

_Shit._

"I - I baby-sit."

"You baby-sit?" he repeated.

"Er, yeah," It was the first thing that came into my head; I sounded so _lame_. "And other small jobs," I added.

He shook his head, confused.

He really knew how to play about with my nerves.

"How can you even scrape by? Now I see why you escaped from the hospital..."

"Look, I manage!" I cut in. _He would never understand,_ "I need to go now. I appreciate what you've done for me, but my friends will be waiting."

Yeah, it hurt referring to Paul as a friend. Though now my mind was relapsing to why I was stood outside of the library, an agitated feeling had gotten hold of me.

"I can't just let you go," he told me.

I groaned, "Jesus Christ. I wish I had said nothing!"

"I know you don't know me, but, I just..."

"Care?" I ended the sentence for him. For a moment I thought he looked nervous, but that look quickly faded away.

My hand grasped the car handle, deciding to leave.

Then the locks slammed down.

I swerved around.

My eyes stopped on his face. He stared right back at me. His eyes were hard, but strangely compassionate.

For a short time, I did feel something flicker inside me.

That moment soon passed.

"What the hell are you doing?!" I found it hard _not_ to screech at him.

"I'm not letting you walk around by yourself. What if that man is waiting for you?" God, he was acting like the responsible adult now.

"You're not my dad!"

He turned the engine on and the car started to hum. He ignored my comment and drove down the road.

"Let me out!" I shouted. Agitation turned into panic.

"You'll thank me later," he said.

As we were nearing towards the end of the road, I could see Paul's car stationed outside of the library. Every emotion exploded.

"Dr. Cullen, stop - now!" I screamed.

He still ignored me. That meant I could not be held responsible for my actions.

I leapt out of my seat and grasped his precious car's steering wheel, swerving the vehicle onto the sidewalk. The vehicle rolled over the curve, and then Dr. Cullen suddenly braked.

"What the hell, Bella?" Dr. Cullen shouted at me.

He finally unlocked the doors, and I shoved the car door open. I had won this battle.

"_You'll thank me later_," I mimicked.

I slammed the door as I heard his voice say something back. I didn't know what he said as the sound was muffled, but that was the least of my worries.

My number one priority was getting into Paul's car, even though I had this sick feeling in my stomach.

I hobbled across the street. My leg was still aching from my injuries.

I wondered how I would explain this.

When I caught Paul's eye from the car - he didn't look pleased. Actually, saying 'he didn't look pleased' was making it sound better than it was.

He was going to snap. His fists were clenched on the steering wheel and his eyes were dark. He was probably thinking of a load of cuss words when he saw me.

I felt nervous when I opened the door, but I would've preferred to have faced Paul's rage than to have faced James' manic eyes.

"Iz, what time is it?" His voice was low.

I pinched my lips together and then exhaled.

"James was here." My voice was shaky and I knew the tears would come soon.

Everything rushed over me: the chase, the pain, the interrogation.

"Oh shit, Sam's gonna be so mad," Paul groaned. His anger had now vanished as soon as I said 'James'.

"Paul, he chased me with a knife!"

Paul's eyes widened. He then he reached for my shirt, and aggressively pulled me into the Maverick. I banged my head on the side of the car before I landed on the passenger seat.

I bit into my bottom lip to keep from yelling out.

"Don't scream about our shit in public, Iz," he told me through gritted teeth.

He was so close to my face that I felt the heat of his breath on my cheeks.

I nodded obediently. I just couldn't catch a break.

The familiar sound of the engine emitted from the car, and I started to shiver.

I couldn't believe what had happened. Why did James choose me?

I stared through the window screen, badly wanting to leave this place. I focused on calming myself down as my hands were now violently shaking.

Then, I saw _his _Volvo turn out in front of us.

Shit.

I bet Dr. Cullen caught all of that.

* * *

**Thank you for reading. It would be amazing if you would review because you don't know how long it's taken me to get this right! Please ... (:**

** See, I'm even grovelling. I'll even be happy with constructive criticism! **

** Anyway, the next few chapters coming up are going to be good...a few lemons, some good and some bad. I hope you keep reading. (;**

** Also, if you have any questions, don't hesitate to PM me. **

**Plus, I have a poll up on my profile concerning an Edward POV...  
**


	6. Rockstars' Secret Weapon

**Disclaimer: SM owns all things Twilight. **

**A/N: Sorry for not updating in a while, been busy, busy, busy. Anyway, major thank you's to all that reviewed - pretend that I've just patted you on the back :D**

**Also, thanks to the terrific beta's at project team beta - Twimarti & VampireFairies. Seriously, you two did an amazing job, I can't write in words how much I appreciate your help!**

**Anyway, now...on with chapter six!**

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**_Chapter Six - RockStars' Secret Weapon._**

_You were just a hole that lacked passion, _

_Another undignified product of society, _

_That girl should have been a Mansion. – **Kate Nash**_

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"Oh fuck, fuck, fuck..." he moaned throughout the house.

My eyes were clenched tight and my palms were stuck onto the wall, while Mr. Sales was thrusting me to his climax. It was the perfect submissive position, and every time he moaned, he made the angry, raw feeling in my chest expand.

"Oh, fuck," he moaned.

His voice sent tremors through me that made my blood feel like dirt. I'd never felt so hollow and numb in my life, and the fact that I had to do my job as soon as I arrived at the house pushed me that much further.

I couldn't help but wince, hearing Mr. Sales make strange gurgling noises while feeling his stomach slapping onto my back. I have said it before and I would say it again: I hated being banged by Mr. Sales.

I needed to keep my eyes closed and do what I was told. I found that it was a hard task, since my mind kept diverting back to the horrific pictures of James with a knife, chasing after me like a maniac.

Sam didn't think it was a big issue though.

Paul and I had arrived back to the house, only to be greeted by Sam, who was shouting about how late I was.

"You think its okay to roll into the house whenever you want? You've had a customer waiting for you for the past ten minutes!" he roared in my face.

I kept quiet. I had no words. The events that had happened drained all life from me, and having to recite what had happened to Paul made me realize that I was in a serious situation.

"Sam, something happened," Paul said sheepishly.

"Shut the fuck up Paul, this is partly your fault!" he shot at him.

I heard Paul sigh. He wasn't the type to retaliate - especially to Sam.

"Christ, Iz. You look like shit. Just get up there, apologize, and get ready," he spat at me. I could sense his body shaking with fury. I did what I was told.

Before I shut the door, I heard Paul quietly say something.

"Sam, before you say anything, something happ-" I wished I could have stayed and said my part, but a customer was waiting.

It was Mr. Sales from across the road. I apologized. He nodded and didn't say a word. I picked the first negligee I found on the heap.

"You don't have to change," his voice grumbled.

I nodded and turned around to face him, waiting for him to do what he wanted.

He wanted to take my clothes off, and of course, I let him. I stared at the corner of the room, not making eye-contact, but I felt the cold of the house reaching my bare skin as he unfastened my shirt, stroking his pink hands over me.

I felt resentment form a lump in my throat, although I let him continue and do as he wished. Everything from then on was routine. I was naked, in the position he told me to get in, and allowing him to fuck me.

"Say my name," his voice grew impatient.

I pursed my lips. _I didn't want to._

"…Mr. Sales," it was no more than a whisper.

I felt drained. I felt clammy. I felt scared.

"Louder," he ordered. His speed picked up, his orgasm must have been close. He had one hand in my hair, pinching the strands from the same place James did. I winced from the memories more than the pain.

"...Mr. Sales," I said. I didn't know how he got off from this, but I hoped I was loud enough so I didn't have to say his name again.

His other hand had started to caress my left breast. He was smearing more of that invisible dirt onto my skin.

He gasped, and his breaths were becoming shorter and deeper.

Husky noises were escaping from his mouth.

He was close.

He pinched my nipple - that was an obvious sign.

It would only take a few more seconds. I knew it would; I knew the signs.

I retaliated to his movements, feeding him his orgasm.

Hips thrusting.

_Squelch. Squelch. Squelch._

The feeling of his blunt nails grazing my breast.

His voice was getting louder.

"Oh, God..." he cried.

My eyes wrinkled.

I was getting faster.

I wanted my job to be over.

Now.

"Oh – my - God..." he cupped my breast and once again, pinched it.

I felt his body tremor, ever so slightly.

He finally came.

I wanted to go for a shower; _this_ sex wasn't sexy at all.

Mr. Sales thrust into me, one more time, signaling the end.

His body immobilized, so he could catch up with his normal pace of breathing. He then took back his hands. I froze in the position, hoping he didn't expect round two.

He maneuvered his body around the bed. "Oh, Bambi..." he then sighed. "You really out-did yourself this time."

My nose creased at the plump man's statement. I wished he was gone already.

"Thanks," I curtly told him.

I crawled off the bed and scanned the room for my underwear. I felt relief when I soon found them near the door. I got changed as quickly as possible. I wriggled into my mismatched undergarments and stockings, pulled a dusky pink camisole over my head, then jumped into my denim shorts.

I knew he was still staring at me, trying to get his money's worth.

I took a cigarette from the carton that was lying on the window sill, and rummaged around my short pockets for my lighter. I felt relieved when I found my trusty blue; I needed a smoke to calm me.

I heard Mr. Sales finally lever himself from the bed, and he started looking for his clothes. I stared outside into the cold night. It was cold for spring, and I wondered if I could have survived if I was still on the streets.

I inhaled the cigarette and thought back to three years ago. My time on the streets was short-lived. I existed in the midst of Forks for approximately one and a half months, huddling on sidewalks outside of fast food joints, wishing that somebody would drop some money by my feet.

It was a harder life than I anticipated. The day I left home, I was a wreck. I insisted on buying a ticket to leave on the next train that arrived at the station. It was a blur of emotions from then on. I only remembered feeling extremely angry, like _really _angry. It boiled in my body. I was filled with hatred.

My decision to leave was an impulsive one, and I regretted leaving the way I did. I should have at least planned it thoroughly.

Living on the streets made me into a stranger. It bit away at my senses, and it made me do things I would never have dreamed about; hence me standing in a brothel. I bet if I was still on the streets I wouldn't have had a lunatic chasing me with a knife. It could have possibly been worse.

I took another drag.

The first week I was on the streets, I got mugged at gun point. Thankfully, they didn't want my 'crap' such as my clothes and Joe-Joe, but they did rob me of my money and my passport.

The mere memory of the incident made me cringe. The cold metal of the gun, pressed onto my cheek, threatening to shoot at any time. The two males who had careless eyes were hissing instructions through their teeth. They made me feel helpless. I had to take out each one of my possessions, and chuck most of them on the dirty floor. As I said - they didn't want my crap.

_Why was I even thinking about the past?_

"I'll see you soon, Bambi," Mr. Sales' voice interrupted my thoughts.

My eyes flicked over to where he stood. Mr. Sales was just about to exit the door, to see Sam and then pay for his night's entertainment.

I raised my hand and gave him a half-hearted wave. He didn't see it though; he had finally left. Mr. Sales had his fun, and that was the only thing that mattered.

My lips puckered for another drag.

If only my mom could see me now. If only she knew that I had used her name to mask my identification. She would have been disgusted, and I wouldn't have blamed her.

I sighed. Dr. Cullen knew my real name. I wondered if he would say something to the cops. He definitely knew that something was wrong, and I bet it topped off his curiosity when he caught the emotional episode between Paul and me.

Even though I was thinking about the worse things he could do, there was a feeling, deep down, that I could trust him.

I thought he cared about me, although I wasn't sure if it was more of an 'I _hoped_ he cared about me'. It all felt so surreal. I hadn't met a man in a long time that didn't immediately make it clear that he wanted to fuck me.

"Iz, what the hell are you doing up there?" Sam sounded annoyed. _Shock-horror._

"I'm just getting ready," I responded. I quickly took another drag and stubbed it on the window sill, throwing the remains out of the window.

"Oh, take your time," he taunted me sarcastically. "I hope I don't have to remind you who will be coming over!"

"Yeah, I know," I replied, feeling slightly defeated.

"Good! And don't you dare embarrass me tonight, Iz!"

I huffed, slipping my feet into a pair of black stilettos. I made sure they were the pair with the shortest heels.

When I arrived downstairs, it was like everyone was trying to act happy for Sam's sake. Sam was seated on the leather chair with Lauren stuck onto him like a sweet, sickly syrup. She was bestowing small kisses on his neck, groveling for attention, but Sam's mind was elsewhere.

The usual guys were there as well, so that meant Billy, Jared and Paul. I noticed Collin was there too, guzzling down a Budweiser. I felt my top lip curl up at the sight of him. He was a gangly guy with a shaved head, and he talked way too much for my liking; the stuff he usually came out with was a load of crude nonsense.

I looked over at Rosalie, who was sprawled over the sofa with a dreamy smile on her face. Jessica was slumped next to her with her eyelids gently shut.

The place was looking tidy, which was weird - it didn't look as damp as usual. Sam had put on his eighties New Romantics collection, which was his way of creating an ambience that he probably thought was cool. Also, I noticed there was a tablecloth on the fold up table. My eyebrows rose when I saw it; I didn't even know we had a tablecloth. There were numerous liquors and bottles of beer placed sporadically across the surface. Wow, Sam really had gone to town.

I padded over and grabbed myself a small glass of gin, which I could nurse for the remainder of the night. I didn't know who 'Emmett' was, but judging by Sam's other selected friends, I highly doubted that he was special. He probably had a lot of power, which was why Sam was creating a fuss.

"... Did I make the bitch moan? She was like a dog in heat, calling my name. She told me to call her afterwards, and of course I told her I would, but guys, once you call a girl back you know how needy they can be..." I had just caught the last bit of Collin's conversation. I instinctively rolled my eyes and slowly walked over to Rosalie.

She looked up at me, and suddenly giggled. "Bells, you look so wonderful - magnificent even. Princess Bella."

I strained a smile. I definitely knew that wasn't the case. "Thanks Hon'. How are you feeling?" I asked.

"Amazing, superb...hey, is that, ugh, what's-his-name...Emmett! Yeah, him, is he here yet?"

"Not yet, but I think he will be here shortly," I told her.

She forced her knuckles into the sofa, so she could raise her body up. "I wanna know what he looks like, who he is, where he comes from." Her voice sounded so delicate. I wondered how she lifted herself up.

"What's brought this on?" I asked, wary.

She giggled once more. "I don't know...I'm just intrigued. Everyone's making such a to-do about a man who I don't know. I'm guessing there must be something special about him..." she then tilted her head as if she was in deep thought.

"I wouldn't count on him being so special Rose," I answered.

Her eyes carried that beautiful blue glimmer, which I hadn't seen in what felt like years.

"Oh, Bells, you don't know him. I don't know him. Don't be so quick to judge," she told me, sounding strangely authoritative.

Her weak counter argument didn't change my mind about this 'Emmett'. I was almost certain he was going to be a brainless idiot who got fried day in, day out.

"So, Bells, did you read anything interesting at the library?" Rosalie asked.

My mind rewound back to earlier today. I sighed.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

Should I have told her?

"I don't think it's the best time to discuss it," I confessed. I then averted my attention to the neat gin in my glass and took a miniscule sip. I was going to pace myself so I made sure that my glass was in my hand for the entire night.

"Bella, you have to tell me." Her eyes implored me to confess.

"Rosie," I groaned. "Look it's to do with what happened the other day. Y'know the incident -"

"Iz!" Sam's voice cut through the room, and my head instantly turned to meet his face.

His expression was cold; I guessed he wanted to talk to me.

"We'll talk later, 'kay?" I said to Rosalie.

She nodded in response and I turned around to Sam, who was still sitting with Lauren.

What was up with those two anyway? Over the past week Lauren had been following Sam around like a lost puppy.

"Iz," he coldly greeted me. "What's with the band aid?"

I looked down at my kneecap. The peachy colored band aid was beaming through my transparent stockings. I nearly forgot how kind Dr. Cullen actually was, he didn't have to do that...

"Didn't Paul tell you?" I replied blandly.

"He told me that James had chased you," Sam stated.

I heard Lauren sniff. I looked at her. She was sending me one dark glare. I had obviously just interrupted something between the two of them; something that must not have been going her way.

"That's the short-hand version," I told him. I remembered running up that road for dear life, every breath was excruciating. "Sam, you told me he wouldn't be coming back. You told me that it was going to be fine. This James has been following me. He's out for blood," I said, lowering my tone.

Sam sharpened his eyes. "How do you know that?"

I loudly exhaled. Why was he asking such stupid questions?

"He chased after me with a fucking knife. That's how I know!" I shouted.

"Yeah, I met her last-" Collin's voice suddenly stopped because of my outburst.

"What?" Rosalie asked from the other side of the room. She must have been monitoring our conversation.

"Look, Sam. I don't know how you're going to deal with this, but trust me - I want it dealt with."

I was surprised at how firm my voice had sounded, but I was relieved that I said it out loud. I wanted protection. The thought had been circling around my mind ever since I arrived back from the library. I was lucky to have escaped.

His eyes enlarged with anger. "Iz, I'm not gonna fucking tolerate you telling me what to do!" he snarled. "I know what has happened. I'm gonna hunt him down, but don't you dare think-"

We heard a banging noise on the door that shook through the house.

The room came to a standstill, and I swore everybody held their breath.

Sam immediately shoved Lauren off his lap, and she hit the ground with a thud. All the guys started laughing.

I probably would have laughed too if I wasn't so wound up.

Sam walked into the kitchen so he could welcome our 'guest'. I turned on my heel to sit at the opposite side of the room. I didn't want to meet Emmett right now.

"My God, Emmett!" Sam exclaimed. "It's been too long!"

I could hear the falseness laced over his words. He was never happy about anybody but himself.

"I know, man, where does the time go?" I heard a new voice enter the room. It entered with high spirits, and had a hearty quality. The voice reminded me of my dad, and I wished it didn't.

Everybody waited with anticipation. The amazing Emmett would finally make his appearance and everybody wanted to know what he was like.

Well, everybody except me.

The washed-out curtain suddenly slid open to reveal Sam, followed by a tall, bulky guy with short, curly hair. He had a huge, almost child-like grin that made him seem friendly, but I now knew that I was a bad judge of character.

I noticed his eyes - they were a rich green.

"Everybody, this is Emmett, real old friend. Used to work for me, although some of you will probably remember him," Sam declared to the room, with a smile that looked abnormal on his face. There were a few mumbles and small smiles shining back at him. That was the best welcome we could conjure.

I, on the other hand, remained quiet.

Emmett nodded his head, acknowledging everybody.

"Please, bro, sit down," Sam gestured to the leather chair.

"Thanks, man," Emmett replied. He looked around the room, wide-eyed. "So, you're still in this line of work?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

"Of course, bro, it's the best line for money."

He nodded. "I see."

"Do you want a beer?" Paul asked. Obviously Paul wanted to be back in Sam's good books.

"Sure, why not," Emmett replied.

"Bud okay?" Paul asked.

"Yeah, it's fine."

I looked over at Rosalie, who seemed fascinated with Emmett. I'll admit, he was good-looking, but the way Rose was staring at him was like she had stars in her eyes.

"So, Emmett, what are you up to these days?" Sam asked. Wow, it was Sam's finest hour.

"I opened a gym in Seattle; it's been pretty good there for business. I'm contemplating opening one in Forks, y'know, be closer to my family. God, it sure has been a while since I came back to Forks. I forgot how miserable it is," he joked. I heard Sam's guys chortle in response as they were hanging onto Emmett's every word.

"Wow, Em, that's fantastic! Where did you get the money from?" Sam asked, nonchalantly standing in front of Emmett. Sam's behavior grated on me. He was so false; it reminded me of the early days.

"I had been saving for a while after I came off the H, and then I decided to do something with my life and invest the money. My dad thought opening a gym would be a good idea, so he lent me the money."

My eyes broadened. I'd never met somebody who had come out of the addiction.

My attention turned to Rosalie once again, and I swore I could see the same thoughts in her eyes. She was locked onto his words as if she was hypnotized.

Paul handed Emmett the Bud, and then Emmett swallowed a few mouthfuls. "So, what was the urgent phone call about?" Emmett asked.

_Urgent phone call? _

"Bro, something big has happened. There's somebody out for one of my girls," Sam told him.

So that was why our words were sprinkled with sugar. Why we were on our best behaviors. Sam needed a favor.

I watched Emmett closely. He remained quiet, but he looked awkward.

"I mean, this guy really knew what he was doing. He wasn't one of them guys calling in to rape a girl for his weird needs. It was planned; there must have been a motive."

A motive? How come that was news to me? I knew he had a weapon - the knife. So, I suppose that the act was premeditated.

It made me shiver just thinking about it.

"I heard Iz crashing into the wardrobe on the night – oh – Iz is the girl who got attacked." Sam gestured his hand towards me, since Emmett's eyes twanged with confusion. "But, if she didn't create such a noise. I would've had a serious problem on my hands," he explained.

Emmett's eyes flashed to mine. The red itchy feeling came back to haunt my neck, and then my cheeks. I knew what he was thinking: the pathetic whore soon got her comeuppance.

"I bet your thinking, 'it's just a one night thing,' - but it isn't. He chased after her today - with a knife." Sam then cursed under his breath while shaking his head. "Bro, I would've gone after him myself, but it's too risky. I'm no hit man. This seriously isn't my area."

The room fell silent. So, Emmett killed people…for money. That piece of information made me uneasy.

Emmett sighed. "Man, I don't know...I've been out of that business for a long time."

Sam's eyes softened. They actually turned to butter.

_That _was new.

If he gave any impressions to the room that he cared, we all knew that they were bullshit. At least, I knew that he was doing this for another reason. If he lost one of his girls, that meant less money. Apparently, it was hard to recruit new women into the business. Well, that was what Sam said, but if I've learned anything from living here – never believe a word Sam says.

"Em, if it's more money you want..."

"No, Sam, it's not about the money. It's the fact that I haven't killed somebody in the past four years. I'm out of that life now."

Sam sniffed. He turned his head to Rosalie, and then grabbed her hand and forced her up.

"Look at this girl," Sam said.

I watched as Rosalie did what he said; she was always ever the obedient one. She stood up and acted as if she was a mannequin in a window display. Everybody stared, and she allowed the attention.

"This is Rosalie, one of our best. She isn't doing this to get killed." Sam was trying to persuade Emmett.

Emmett stared at her longingly. _We all knew why Sam had picked Rosalie._

"But you told me this guy wasn't out for Rosalie, he was out for somebody called 'Iz'," Emmett replied.

'Iz'. I didn't know who the fuck Iz was, but I knew James was after me . . ._ Bella_.

Sam's eyes connected with mine – they were like hard stones. _Ah, I guessed he now wanted me t_ mm _o stand up._

I staggered onto my feet and padded across the floor with my glass cupped in my hand.

"This is Iz," Sam said.

Emmett looked at me appreciatively.

"I'm Bella," I corrected.

"I'm sorry to hear about what happened to you," Emmett stated. No words could have been comforting.

Sam raggedly scuffed my hair back, revealing all my face.

"Look what that bastard has done to her so far," Sam said. He was showing the stitched up scar on my forehead to Emmett. I felt embarrassed. Scars weren't something to be shown in public, even if it was on my head - I had been hiding it successfully.

Sam was creating such a cheap show.

"Sam, j-just get off me." The words bumbled out of my mouth, not sounding as elegant as I desired.

"Sam..." Emmett was finding it hard to resist Sam's tactics.

"I know, I know. You've given up that life." Sam then sighed. "Well, it's good to see you anyway, Em, it's been too long," he said.

I was a little surprised about the tone he was taking. I took another calculated sip of my gin.

"Thanks Sam, I'm glad to see your face is _not_ behind bars," Emmett replied.

Sam laughed. "Fuck you."

Then Emmett looked at me once again. "Hey, y'know, my brother's a doctor. I know what Sam's like with medical bills, so if you want to get the dressing off - free of charge - he'll definitely do it."

"Oh, um, thanks," I replied. I was a little shocked that he was talking to me.

Sam stared at me, one eyebrow raised. "Well, Iz, you always wanted to get out of this house. Take Em up on his offer."

"Yeah, you need to get that checked out. He can do it for you in the next few days if you'd like?" Emmett asked.

"Oh… that would be nice of him. Well, yeah, sure...that'd be great," I responded. I was feeling hesitant. I didn't know who Emmett really was, only facts about him. Was he trustworthy?

I supposed there must have been some good in him if he wanted me to get checked out.

"Great, Iz. I'm glad we've agreed on something for once," Sam said.

My muscles strained into a smile, feeling the need to put on a show.

"Anyway, Sam, where's Victoria?" Emmett asked.

_Uh, shit._

I could tell that Sam was thinking the exact same thing.

I then saw Lauren from the corner of my eye. She was hunched on the floor and grunted at Emmett's question. She immediately stood up, producing a provocative smile.

"Emmett, remember me?" she purred.

He raised his eyebrows, but his face didn't change much. "Lauren," he noted, although I heard disdain in his tone.

"Well done. I knew you wouldn't have forgotten," she concluded. She strained her arms across her chest so it gave the illusion that she was a cup-size bigger.

Emmett hesitated. "Of course not, so...how have you been?"

"Peachy keen, Baby. Missed you though, it's been too long." She then winked.

Let me guess – just from the top of my head; Lauren had slept with Emmett. Judging by how bashful Emmett had turned, he would prefer to forget than remember.

I couldn't help but feel a little smug inside.

"I'll get some more beer," Sam announced to the room.

I watched his back descend into the kitchen.

"Wait up Sam, I'll help you!" Lauren called after him, and then tottered off into the kitchen.

Emmett swallowed the rest of his beer and then smiled at us; he seemed perturbed. I didn't know why he seemed uneasy; he wasn't awkwardly standing in the middle of the room taking tiny sips of cheap gin while deciding whether it was safe to go out again.

"You're the muscle man," Rosalie interrupted the silence. Her voice was in pure admiration. I smirked as I watched her charm work its way into Emmett.

He would have to be one hell of a strong guy to have deflected Rose's magic. He shied away from her statement. I swore his cheeks flushed a little – I wouldn't have thought hit-men got embarrassed.

"I wouldn't call myself that..." he said.

"I would," she purred. Her Cheshire-cat smile was at its peak of allure. "You're here to save Bella," she signaled her dainty finger in my direction.

I felt the heat arrive to my cheeks. "Now, come on Rose. We've all heard him," I told her.

She ignored me.

"I respect that in a man." She lowered herself on the arm of the leather chair. "I know you don't want to see us get harmed. I love Bella with all of my heart. If she died, then I'd probably be the next to go. That's two lives, Emmett."

"Rosie," I chided. Rosalie acted as if she was the femme fetale in a Film Noir. It must have been the smack, since I wouldn't dare talk like that, and I doubted that Rosalie would either when she was sober.

"Rosalie, isn't it?" Rosalie shook her head enthusiastically. "I know what you're trying to say, but I don't want to be dragged into your situation."

I heard Rosalie sigh, loud and aggressive.

"Emmett, Sam doesn't want to press this, but we're fucking scared. I'm definitely scared for my best friend. I know who you are and what you were like. This guy - he's breakfast for you. If it isn't a favor for Sam... then it's a favor for me._ Please_," she implored.

I stood there, stunned.

_Who you are and what you were like._ Like I said, Rosalie's second language was lying.

"You really are scared?" he questioned.

She nodded her head fervently.

Sam suddenly strapped the curtains to the side and bared a huge grin for the room.

"More beers guys - don't let this party run dry!"

I looked around the room; this was hardly a party, and if it was - it was dry.

"Sam," Emmett declared his named as if we were witnessing a historical moment. "I'm in."

Those two little words burned a candle in my heart.

"You're in?" Sam was playing stupid.

"You can count on me for your girl's potential killer."

Sam's face lit up. "You won't regret this." He passed Emmett a beer. I suddenly felt safer, which I took for granted pre-James. I was annoyed, though, that Sam failed to mention the _real_ reason why he was getting protection. It wasn't for me, or any of the other girls for that matter. It was for him, since he believed that James was trying to get to him. He hadn't stopped talking about it since it happened. He kept rambling about somebody called 'Aro' and how it must have been down to him, but now Emmett was here, Sam was all too eager to say he was 'protecting his girls'.

I turned toward Rosalie. She looked like her mind had just been disconnected, but there was still a smile curving around her face.

Sam started, "...So, I thought the best way to respond to this problem…" he then paused and looked at me. "Iz, fuck off."

I held my breath. He had used me for tonight, and now he wanted me to get out of his way. I shot down the rest of my gin, feeling bitter.

"C'mon, Rosalie, time for bed," I said.

I held my hand out and she grabbed it. We left the room without another word. When we arrived in our bedroom, I slipped into a long t-shirt and then I helped Rose into her night clothes. She just mumbled words under her breath.

I didn't even know why I was helping her go to sleep. I highly doubted she would get any shuteye. Rosalie talked a lot at night, and it was usually about her old life, before the house.

Rosalie didn't have the best upbringing. She was very different from me in that way, since I had a comfortable childhood.

Rosalie was a runaway just like me, although her situation was extremely different. Whenever she spoke about it, her eyes never clouded with sadness. That was why I respected her. She tried not to be all doom and gloom, even though she had faced more shit in her life than a character from a soap opera.

Rosalie's mother was a cruel alcoholic. She didn't give a fuck about Rosalie; she only kept her for the child benefits. So, when Rose left, there was nobody who cared about her enough to stop and think 'hey, where's Rosalie?'

She decided to leave with a guy she had met at a park one night – she admits now that it sounded stupid, and it _was_ stupid. He bought her and her friends alcohol, and one thing led to another. I didn't know his name. I just knew him as 'the guy'.

Rosalie never went into specifics about _the guy_.

I knew Rosalie had hopelessly fallen for him. She said that she thought she loved him, but she was sixteen at the time, going on seventeen. Everything was new and fresh. She thought she had met somebody who loved her and had wanted her.

That was when this guy made his move.

He asked her to leave with him, filled her with happy promises. Rosalie was all too eager to leave. She thought that moving in with that guy would be better than any birthdays or Christmases.

She moved into a shit-hole of a flat in Forks. That was when his true colors shined. Wasn't that just fucking typical?

Once you're under a man's roof, they think that they can behave how they want. They treat you how they want, because they're obviously such a saint for putting you up.

Rosalie soon met Sam, who was a good friend of her boyfriend's. Sam was at the flat from time to time, and he had suggested that Rosalie should move in with him. Obviously she declined, even though she wasn't as happy as she thought she would be, but Rosalie tried to make it. She tried to make it work.

Then one night, the guy arrived home in the early hours of the morning.

He woke her up, and demanded sex. She told him no. At that time, she wasn't that kind of girl.

He didn't like it.

He hit her, repeatedly, bruising her face, but Rosalie was a fighter. She struggled out of his attack and scrambled to pick up an old beer bottle that was left next to the bed.

There was only one option: self defense.

She smacked the bottle around his head. She wouldn't be fucked over - not again.

Rosalie thought that he was telling her to stop, but she couldn't have been certain. Would it have mattered anyway?

She smacked the bottle over him again, and gouged the jagged edges into his body, feeling the texture of his flesh, until he was left groaning on the bed, not being able to move. His salty blood stains were left on the bed sheets, and his DNA was dripping from her hands.

She didn't know what to do, everything happened so fast. One minute she was sleeping, the next she was violently murdering her boyfriend.

She knew he would need medical assistance, but she was too scared to call.

Rosalie panicked, collected all of her things and then left. Luckily, she didn't have much. She lived each day by sleeping on benches and groveling for food. She couldn't leave town because she had no money. Fortunately, she didn't stay on the streets for too long. Unfortunately, she was picked up by Sam.

I didn't know how her story ended. Well, she was lying next to me, so that was some indication, but I didn't know if the police were after her. They would probably have found the body. That was if 'the guy' died, but she never mentioned it.

I watched her lay on the bed. Her eyes were wide open and she looked utterly lost. Rosalie was the victim of the house, but nobody else saw that. She had a rougher time than I did. The reasons why I left seemed petty compared to hers.

It made me ache seeing her transform, becoming weaker and weaker. Ever since we found Victoria, Rosalie's light had been rapidly burning out.

I leaned over to her face. "Goodnight, Rosie, sleep well," I hummed in her ear.

"You're going to get those stitches removed?" She asked drearily.

I sighed. "I hope I don't have to do anything…you know, for payback," I whispered back.

Rosalie didn't say anything. Maybe she knew what I was getting myself into. Her silence made my discomfort grow.

"Well, I'll see you tomorrow, Rose." I then pecked her soft cheek.

I settled back down onto my side of the bed. I finally had protection and hopefully my problem would end soon. I didn't care how messy it got.

_James had wanted to kill me._

I tried to clear my mind, hoping for a dreamless night.

All I could think about was frantically running down that street, and if it wasn't that, it was the look in James' eyes - bloodcurdling and twisted.

Sam was right. There must have been a motive behind his actions.

And I didn't want to find out.

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**A/N: Thanks for reading.**

**So, what are your thoughts on Rosalie's backstory, do you think that 'the guy' died?**

**Also, I wonder who's Emmett's brother... ;)**

**A little review, or a big one would be amazing. Tell me what you think, I value your opinion! :)**

**Kitty.  
**


	7. Caught Me By Surprise

**Disclaimer: SM owns Twilight.**

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**Chapter Seven - Caught Me By Surprise**

You sit there in your heartache

Waiting on some beautiful boy to

Save you from your old ways

You play forgiveness

Watch him now, here he come. ~ _The Killers_

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I was sitting in front of our vanity table, giving myself a hard look.

I was nervous...what was new in the world? I had been a wreck for the past ten days, and today was the day where I had to go to the doctor's house. That meant nobody was there to watch out for me. _I had to be in his house - alone._

_You will be fine, Bella. __Nothing will happen; he's a doctor._

I chanted it in my head again and again.

I sighed, and scraped my hair back into a messy bun. I hoped that everything would be okay. I hoped that he'd do his job, and then I would come back here, and that would be the end of that.

Why was I even thinking like that?

"...Girl, you'll be a woman soon!" Rosalie sung.

My heart leaped - Fuck!

_Obviously Sam had been playing his Tarantino soundtracks._

"Damn Rosalie, do you have to sneak up on me?" I snapped. She ignored me and flounced onto the bed. She seemed happy. I wondered why that was...pfft, I knew why that was.

I turned around to give her my undivided attention. She was now laying on the purple duvet, her eyelids closed and her golden locks sprawled across the bed. Her flimsy top had ridden up, showing the crooks of her hips sticking out of her skin and the little bumps of her ribcage. I swore if you hit her hard enough she would crumble.

"What'cha thinking of?" her voice softly asked.

"Oh, y'know. Stuff," I answered dryly.

"Oh yeah? Let me guess. You're thinking about where you're going to go when you leave the house," she said.

"When _we_ leave the house," I reminded her.

A smile curled sweetly around her cheeks. "So tell me about it."

My lips slanted, I've told her about the plan thousands of times before. "I don't have time, Rosalie. Y'know what Sam's like with his timekeeping."

Her eyes fluttered open. "Oh please, Bells. Tell me about what we're gonna do when we leave this place," Rosalie implored.

I grinned. "Okay, Lenny. We'll move out and get our own ranch and I promise you can tend the rabbits."

She giggled. "Oh, fuck you then."

"What are you two fucking doing up there?" Sam shouted from the bottom of the stairs.

I huffed. Sam _always_ had to be clued in; there was no room to breathe.

"Whatever it is, video tape it me for later!" Jared cut in.

I heard the two explode in boisterous laughter. _Fuckers._

"I'll see you later, 'kay?" I wished my voice didn't sound so uneasy.

Rosalie vaguely hummed something in response. I hoped she would be alright.

I slowly made my way downstairs, not wanting to move at Sam's preferred pace. The last few weeks Sam had gotten more unbearable, or maybe I had gotten less tolerant.

When I arrived in the main room, I was surprised to see Jessica sitting on the wooden floor, (well, I wasn't so surprised about that) her cheeks were red and swollen and her eyes glistening.

I looked around the room - Jared and Paul were smoking, not even bothering to give poor Jessica the time of day.

I exhaled, and ambled across to where she was sitting.

"Hey...uh, are you alright?" I quietly asked.

_Christ, Bella, does it look like she's alright?_

She nodded her head shyly, not even looking me in the eye.

"I know how you're feeling, by the way," I told her.

Her head didn't rise up to acknowledge me speaking. She remained silent with vacant eyes.

"And I know it's scary being the new girl; we've all done it. You've got to remember that-"

I felt a hand slap my ass. It caused me to involuntarily squeak. _That_ noise was embarrassing."

I spun my head around to see Jared's smarmy face, his eyes twinkling.

Ugh. Dis-gust-ing.

"So then Iz, we're gonna take you to see Emmett's brother, the Doctor?"

"Okay..." I muttered. I couldn't help but scowl at him; he was dirt.

"Jesus, Iz. It's only me, don't get too excited,"

I continued to glower at his face. "I doubt I'd ever get excited to breathe the same air of such a misogynistic asshole."

He breathed out a low whistle. "Christ Iz, don't attack me with the fancy wording." He then laughed in a way that made me wish I could take back my words.

"Don't cry because the size of your vocabulary is about the size of your dick!" The anger just spewed out of my mouth...

That made him shut up, although I still had that airy nervous feeling inside of my chest. That little spat didn't help me _at all._

He shoved my back towards the kitchen door. "Just get the hell out of the house and into my car," he snapped.

I huffed; sometimes I wished I was a man, and then nobody would tell me what to do.

I mentally kicked myself for thinking that. I was _proud _to be a woman.

God, I needed to get into the car and stop thinking about all the negativities.

When I was strapped into Jared's old Chevy Citation I waited for him to sit in the driver's seat. My legs kept bobbing up and down, and I couldn't stop rubbing my hands together.

I hated Jared's car; it was the most ugliest car in the world, it had a musty smell like it should have belonged to an eighty year old man, and don't get me started on the mess. It was a sea of empty coke cans and packets of _Chesterfield_ cigarettes.

He ignored me completely when he shoved his keys into the ignition - but that was fine with me. The car rumbled, and before I knew it we had driven out of the street and through Forks' town centre.

Now and again I heard Jared grunt, but that was the only conversation I got from him. That suited me fine, although I really wanted to know where he was taking me. We were driving into an area that I had never seen before.

There were beautiful houses surrounded by effervescent front gardens that invited you to its door. It was a long time since I saw something so pretty.

Suddenly the car stopped.

I gasped. "Oh...my...God..."

"I know." It was the first time Jared had spoken. "The Cullens' have money brimming up to their ears."

My neck snapped to Jared's face. "Cullens?"

"Yeah, Emmett's family."

_Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit. _

I was staring at Dr. Cullen's house. Why didn't I guess that they were related - their eyes had been a perfect giveaway.

Dr. Cullen's house was so tall; I bet it had five bedrooms on the second floor plus a home cinema and steam room. The bricks were coated with a pristine eggshell white, and the house had beautiful Venetian windows. Dr. Cullen might as well scream to passers-by that he had money.

A part of me felt relieved. I was relieved that I had him, instead of a middle aged man enduring a life crisis who thought he would take the excellent chance of forcing a girl into sleeping with him.

Then, there was that other uncomfortable part of me; the part that told Dr. Cullen a bunch of lies I'd somehow gotten away with.

_Oh my __God. It's fucking karma coming to shank me in the back. _

"I'll pick you up around...let's say, four."

"But it's half past one. It won't take me two and a half hours to get my stitch off," I countered back.

"No it won't. I'm sure Dr. Cullen can think of something you can do," Jared's voice was laced with surliness.

"But what if he doesn't want me to be there...I mean, he won't be-"

"Iz. Get the hell out of my car unless you want me to _make_ you get out of my car," Jared threatened.

My whole body declined from the situation. Jared was the confident type and that meant he was totally unpredictable.

I opened the car door slowly, and stepped my bare legs out in the cool, sunny breeze. As soon as I closed the door, he sped off down the road, not taking a second glance back.

I exhaled loudly.

_Shit__. Why did this have to happen to me?_

I was tempted to run, but where to? I had no money or clothes. It would have been stupid, and I have certainly learned from stupid decisions.

I carefully stepped across the gravely path towards the door. I had to have the stitch out of my forehead, besides it was getting really itchy. As soon as it was out, I could play it cool, say bye and stuff, and then sit outside of his house for the next two hours.

Wow. I didn't have to say it out loud because that plan sounded shit. _Nice one, Batman._

Before I knew it, my jittery legs had made it outside of his large, white door. The door had a little window that allowed me to spy into his front room, and God, I had never seen a room like it. His front room had a mahogany staircase in the middle, leading off to different parts of his house, and he had a huge crystal chandelier that was ostentatiously shining down on the entire room. Whoa.

Money up to his ears? I swore he was suffocating in the dollar.

My heart was pounding against my ribcage as I raised my pale hand close to the brilliant white of his door.

I was going to do this. I was Isabella Swan, and I wasn't going to get pushed around anymore.

So why was my hand trembling like an alcoholic with the shakes?

There was no turning back - I had to do it.

I knocked on the door; it was loud and clear. He definitely would have heard it 'cause that Cullen boy didn't miss a thing.

I heard a shuffling noise in the house. God, I felt really nervous.

_Stop staring at your sneakers, Bella._

_Stop it! He won't be down there!_

I now knew that there was a presence behind the door.

_Crap._

The door gently opened, and I hesitantly raised my stare to meet his eyes.

Green. Stop fucking thinking of how green they are, Swan! _Stop it._

His expression was a bewildered one - as to be expected. He gave me a tough look. Nothing was said.

I took in his features, and it was like I really saw him for the first time. His tousled hair that told you he was a workaholic. His rugged stubble that told you he was a busy man. His creased shirt that told you he was a _lonely _man.

He wasn't married like I'd thought. He had some of the customer symptoms, except for the fact he was tall, lean and handsome.

I felt small in comparison. _Hello Daddy long legs._

"It's you," he said.

"Ta-da," I sung weakly.

He shook his head laughing, it was unnerving. "So, you're Emmett's favor, huh?"

"Uh, I guess..." Dr. Cullen stepped to the side, gesturing me to go through.

As soon as I moved my feet onto his shiny floors, I was hit with the most mouthwatering smell. Something was cooking and that made my stomach pinch with hunger. It smelt like Italian...Christ, I was surprised at myself for still being able to differentiate cuisines.

I stood right next to his staircase, feeling about an inch tall. "Where shall I put my shoes?" I asked.

His eyes flitted down to my worn out sneakers. Oh, God, I felt so out of place. I might as well have been a donkey in a pack of zebras.

"You can just leave them over there." He nodded his head, signaling toward the shoe rack.

My cheeks were definitely burning. Why didn't I see the shoe rack in the first place?

I padded over, wishing that my hair wasn't in a bun as I really wanted to use my hair as a protective curtain to cover my tomato face. I pulled both sneakers off in haste, and then neatly slipped the laces back into the soles and rested them on the shoe rack.

I could feel Dr. Cullen's attention glued to me.

I turned around with my arms hugging my chest. I felt awkward. My stare drifted towards Dr. Cullen's perplexed face, and I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do. I waited for some kind of order.

He cleared his throat and stared at the door at the back of the room. "So, you can just follow me in here, and we'll get this stitch off," he told me.

I nodded my head slowly. "Okay." That was all I could say. My throat muscles felt rigid, making it hard to conjure words.

I followed him through the door into his kitchen. I noticed he had tons of photographs in his house that were hanging on the walls; the photos were really sharp so I guessed the camera was expensive. They were mainly picturesque shots of Forks' woodland, but there were also photos of Dr. Cullen with, I presumed, friends and family. One was with Emmett; he had a goofy grin on his face, while Dr. Cullen looked like he was happy, but not as cheerful as Emmett.

In another photo, Dr. Cullen was with an attractive woman with strawberry blond hair cascading down her shoulders. Their faces were cheek-to-cheek and it seemed kind of intimate. Looking at the photo flinched something that was between anger and disappointment inside of me; that must have been Dr. Cullen's girlfriend.

When we reached the kitchen, my eyes nearly fell out of their sockets. What- a - kitchen!

It was a symphony of black and white. The room was so stylish, with a huge stainless steel cooker at one end, and a tall island in the middle with long leather stools surrounding it. My eyes lingered over his hi-tech gadgets that he had on the counters; they made me feel lost just staring at them.

My stomach ached, noticing that we had found the main source of the delicious smell.

"You have a beautiful house." I finally remembered my manners after gaping at the sight of his monstrous kitchen.

He looked at me, his eyes squinting for a second, and then a crooked grin spread across his face.

I inwardly swooned. It was pathetic, really.

"Thanks. I really do love this house." His head looked around the kitchen, admiring his handiwork.

Big headed much? Oh, I didn't blame him. I would have acted exactly the same way.

He patted his hand on the breakfast table. "Could you just perch on here for me please, Bella," he told me.

I eyed the table. I could see a clumsy attempt from me to climb onto the tall breakfast bar.

He walked off to the other side of the kitchen, leaving me to my own devices.

I gave it my best, pushing my arms on the cold hard island, while my legs flailed like a jellyfish swimming. I got there in the end, albeit flushed. Thank God Dr. Cullen didn't see me.

"So, did you find that guy who was chasing after you?" Dr. Cullen asked. He sounded so casual; he might as well have said 'So, did you find that blue dress you were after?'

"Dr. Cullen, can we not..." my voice was more like a soft hum. I really could be too shy for my own good at times.

His eyes flashed to meet mine; he had an eyebrow raised. I gulped.

"It's Edward," he told me. He looked like an Edward. "This won't take too long, but you might find it uncomfortable," he warned me.

He took out a pair of scissors and tweezers from a plastic bag and then leaned in, right next to my face, staring intently at my forehead. He brushed a stray strand of hair away, and the feeling of his hand touching me made my insides tingle. A nervous lump formed in my throat.

I felt his breath dance across my skin when he worked on getting my stitches out. His eyebrows were furrowed together, and when he swallowed I saw his Adams apple bob up and down.

"You're quiet today," he noted. I wanted to say something witty, but I felt too tense. "You were more than audible last time we 'bumped' into each other."

"Sorry about that..."

He snorted. "So you should be." My eyes flittered upwards, the anger was breaking through that shyness barrier of mine. "You nearly crashed my Volvo," he said.

_Oh!__ I would have hated to crash his Volvo!_

"Well, if you just did what I said," my voice was a near growl. Then, I remembered that I caught him spying on me when I left his car. "Oh, and you didn't have to watch me get picked up either."

"So this is what I get for trying to be a good citizen." His crooked smile made a comeback, although I swore he was mocking me.

I felt the tweezers gently raveling my stitches out. I really wanted to push Edward away and scratch my forehead - it felt so itchy.

"So, who do you live with then? I might know them," he asked.

"Uh, I don't think you will," I replied. The truth was, he probably wouldn't. Unless he knew that his brother was a hit man, then he might have known Sam. For some reason, I doubted that Emmett would have told Edward. The way Emmett was acting at the house - he definitely felt discomfited.

"Everybody knows everybody in Forks." When will Edward give up?

Plus, why was there a rule that everybody had to know everybody in Forks?

"You're a persistent little thing aren't you," I said.

His eyes lit up. "Little?" his voice chimed. "Do you want to do a back to back measurement?"

Okay, maybe a small smile curled on my lips, but I had the image of me and Edward standing in the middle of the room measuring ourselves.

"So, go on, shoot - who are your roomies?" he asked.

I sighed; I really didn't have the energy to be stubborn.

"I live with a few girlfriends: Rosalie, Lauren and Jessica, and then there's Sam."

I could see his mind rooting for second names.

"You don't know them!"

He nodded, showing his white flag. "Okay then. So, is this Sam your boyfriend, the one who always picks you up everywhere?" he asked nonchalantly.

"God no!" I blurted. "Sam's a sort of power crazed fascist."

He chuckled, and I kind of laughed too. It was nice.

At that moment, I had the daunting thought of returning to the house. The stitch had been successfully removed.

"You're not like the other girls," Edward stated, sounding so damn confident. _I wished I was like other girls._ "When you arrived, I thought you were going to be like the rest of the girls who come in with the same problem. Most of the times time they're under aged and they go out to clubs with their fake ID's and drink like there's no tomorrow. They wear provocative clothes...you know, like short skirts and revealing tops, and then they cry in the morning because they've been drugged. I know it's not their fault, but they're kind of asking for it. It's twenty-one for a reason."

I suddenly felt awkward.

"Yeah, yeah, I know what you mean..." I agreed - even though I kind of disagreed. "But, are you telling me that you never got drunk before the golden age of twenty-one?" I asked. I even cocked an eyebrow. I had an urge to prove him wrong.

He squinted his eyes, and then exhaled a breathy laugh. "Okay, I did from time to time." His eyes turned to the corner of the kitchen. Cullen boy was in thinking mode. "But the thing about underage drinking is that you do it for the sake of getting drunk. I remember when I went to this party because a girl I liked was going. Before she even arrived at the party, I had drunk half a bottle of tequila. When she finally arrived, I drank a whole lotta Irish whisky." He laughed again. "I spent the remainder of the night with my head hanging in a toilet."

He shined his crooked smile at me again. _I swear he knew how that affected me. _

"Well, you're just soft," I concluded.

He folded his arms and slouched back onto one of his counters.

"Sorry, I guess I am kind of soft, next to Forks' number one hardcore drinker."

My cheeks flushed, _once again. _I didn't like the fact I was blushing so easily around him.

"I don't get drunk easy." I always could hold my drink. Well, I liked to think I could.

"Right." He nodded, still shining that mocking grin.

"Shut up!" I chided.

He smirked. "Anyway, what time are you getting picked up?"

My heart flopped. "Well...about four...but if you want me to leave now, that's okay. I don't want to be getting in the way or anything, 'cause I know how annoying that can be and well I don't want to be an annoyance but..."

"Bella."

"...you know, it wasn't me who decided on the time, because I knew you wouldn't want to spend your whole day with me..."

"..._Bella?" _

"...not that I'm bringing myself down and want you to feel sorry for me or something, but I can just sympathize and..."

_Did he just say my name__?_

I stopped. God, I had a bad case of the babbles. I raised my head and smiled weakly.

"You don't have to go. I was only wondering because I thought you could stay for lunch," Edward said.

"Oh..." how can he be so assertive, so confident, while I sat there and played the towns jabbering idiot.

"That would be nice," I replied, "Thank you."

"I hope you like lasagna."

I breathed in, and nodded. "Do you mind if I go outside to have a cigarette?" I asked.

His lips quirked at the corners, "You smoke?"

I felt my eyebrows pinch together. Oh God, I hoped he wasn't an Anti-Smoker who would talk my ear off about the cons of smoking.

"Evidently," I replied.

He raised his eyebrows, probably at the tone I just took.

"Don't you know that smoking is bad for you?" His eyes were screaming in delight, challenging me to bite back.

"You're kidding? Well, that's news to me. Who would ever have thought that smoking was bad for you?" Okay, I knew there was a red light blaring in my mind saying 'sarcasm overload', but please, why did people have to get pissy about smokers? Okay, I knew Edward wasn't being pissy, but he _was _trying to provoke me.

Judging by the look on his face, he succeeded.

"Damn, Bella. Don't get so worked up; I was only kidding." He then turned around and grabbed a pair of green oven mittens.

"I'll be back," Damn, why did that come out as me sounding like Arnold Schwarzenegger?

I waited for him to say something; but he didn't. Great, I looked like a fucking idiot.

I wasn't a fan of the hot and cold moods. Then again, I could have been over-analyzing his moods. I decided to continue walking outside to his front porch.

When I reached the windy weather, I snatched out my carton of cigarettes from my dress pockets, and embedded one between my lips. I then plucked out my trusty blue. It took me about ten times to light that goddamned cigarette. _I needed to quit._

I inhaled a _really_ long drag. It felt so good, so calming. To be honest, I wasn't as stressed as I was earlier. In fact, talking to Edward had made me feel pretty...happy. Well, happier than I have been in the past few weeks. It was a new experience, well, maybe not new, but definitely refreshing.

I hoped I wouldn't say anything stupid.

Why was I obsessing over Edward?

Okay, I had a small crush on him - it felt so teenage. I knew Edward wouldn't have reciprocal feelings. He was older than me. Why would he want a girl who was like me?

I couldn't push away the warm feelings I felt. I sounded like such an idiot. Nothing could happen, and nothing _would _happen. Besides, Sam didn't allow us to have relationships. We all knew what would happen if we did, and Victoria was a prime example.

My mind kept thinking about the casual grin he always lapsed into, which, used in the right situation, could get any girl hot and sweaty.

I bit my lip - I never thought about men like that. Not with those melted feelings that I haven't felt since..._I couldn't remember._

I kept on taking repetitive drags of my cigarette, trying not to let myself think anymore, but it was hard. My mind was drifting off into wild thoughts.

When I finished, I stubbed the cigarette out on his porch and then chucked it into his trash can. I stepped back into the house, being greeted by that delectable smell of the Italian herbs.

I heard noises of cutlery banging around in the kitchen. He must have been ready to serve up lunch.

Then, something caught my eye.

The door opposite the kitchen was left ajar. I could see tons of technical equipment, and there was a white background on one of the walls. What secrets did Edward have in this house?

Edward was still busy, and I was curious. _Just one little look._

I tiptoed to the room - it would only have taken a second.

When I reached the room, I couldn't believe it. It was like Christmas had come to wrap me up into its warm arms.

There standing in the middle of the room was a tripod, which had a camera placed on it that looked...well, pretty professional. I wanted to touch, but I didn't want to knock it over. There were so many photos pinned to the walls, mainly landscape shots. I felt surprised. Really surprised. I wouldn't have guessed that photography was Edward's hobby.

"...Bella?" I heard Edward's voice call out for me and my head snapped back.

I took a final look, baffled. Then, I reluctantly left.

I poked my head around the door, and saw that Edward was ready to serve.

It was a little perverted, but I was entranced by the look on his face. Pure intensity. He was only cutting out the lasagna, but his eyes squinted and his lips pinched together. I breathed in, calming myself before entering the room.

I padded over to the breakfast bar, and watched him dish out the pieces.

"I could smell you before you even entered the room," he said nonchalantly.

His words hurt me. I wanted to say something snappy back, but I didn't have any words to throw at him. Besides, was it really worth it?

Edward placed a neatly cut square of lasagna in front of me. It looked beautiful: juicy mince wanting to collapse out of the layers, a thick white sauce begging to be tasted and the dish was topped off with crispy, golden cheese.

I wanted to pick up my fork and savage the dish, but I felt uncomfortable eating in front of Edward. I didn't want to look fat or get mince around my mouth.

I took a sip of the cool glass of orange juice next to me, and kept an eye on what Edward was doing. He picked up his knife and fork and started cutting into his meal. I guessed that was a signal for me to start.

Edward swallowed. "Have you been doing any baby-sitting lately?"

I wished he didn't bring up that topic.

I moaned softly. "This is _so_ good." I decided that I would just change the subject. That was easier.

His face turned from curious into a lazy smile. "Thanks. I love Italian cooking. I went for a two week crash course in Florence for my twentieth birthday," he told me.

I lifted an eyebrow. Wow.

"Impressive." It really was, although not as impressive as his room dedicated to his photography.

I nibbled at the lasagna on my fork, trying to act lady-like. "I love your photographs." I nodded my head toward the photo of the Forks woodland.

"You're just filled with compliments today." His velvety tone shivered down my spine.

I laughed nervously. "Yeah, I'm into my photography," he said. _No shit._

"Really? Wow, me too... " I couldn't keep lying "...well, I used to be really into it, but I haven't used a camera in ages, although I'm thinking about going back into it."

I could have sworn his eyes sparkled a little bit. "You should get back into it, I could show you my dark room if you want?"

I bit my lip trying to suppress a laugh. My immaturity had got the better of me.

"That sounded wrong didn't it?" He asked with an adorable bemused expression.

My laughter was freed. "Pretty much..."

We talked with ease for the rest of lunch. There were no awkward moments, and thankfully, no awkward questions. He told me about his father, who was the Chief of Staff at the hospital (he was the one who got him his job) and his mother, who was an editor for an interior design magazine - I thought that was pretty cool. He told me that she did a lot of photography, and that was how he got into photography himself. His life seemed perfect.

I helped him wash up afterwards, and when we finished, well, I have to admit, I was excited.

"So, if you'd like to follow me," Edward said as he exited the kitchen and held the door open for me. I nodded a timid thank you and then Edward took me into his dark room.

I automatically smiled at the beautiful sight.

"This is the camera I'm working with at the moment. It takes a really good shot outside. Well, it takes a pretty good shot anywhere. Would you like a try?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow. I loved it when he did that.

I stared at the camera – it looked heavy and had too many buttons. I knew for a fact I'd look like a complete idiot fumbling around with the camera.

I shook my head. "It looks too complicated," I answered softly.

He grinned. "It's not as bad as it seems." He pressed a silver button on the top, and a picture of the white screen in front of the camera came to life. "What camera did you used to use?" he asked.

"I used my dad's old Polaroid camera; it was simple and I liked the pictures it took." A smile curved on my lips thinking back to the times when I ran about the house, sneakily taking photos of my parents when they weren't looking.

"That's pretty old school." Edward's warm voice melted through my memories, easing me back to the now.

He looked back at the camera. "Sure you don't want to have a go? It's pretty easy, Bella. I'll show you," he said.

I hesitated, but then he stretched his arm out, signaling me to stand next to him.

I did a mock eye roll and ambled towards him. "Fine," I said.

He grinned, biting his bottom lip as he did so. _I think that was now my favorite look_. He picked my hand up, and used it as a puppet on the camera. I giggled at his actions. He briefly gazed at me, his brow furrowed together. "I didn't know you laughed," he teased.

I lightly hit him on his chest. "Stop being an ass and teach me how to work this thing."

"Wow, that was harsh," he joked. He then leaned forward, his face was so close to mine, that I could feel the heat radiate from him, which made my cheeks flush.

"Right, so this is how you turn it on" - he clicked the silver button once again - "this is how to zoom in. You can press this button depending on where you are to get the perfect shot…so we press this…" I just watched his large, masculine hand cradle my small, pale one as he moved my fingers along the shiny instrument. For a moment, he leaned so close to my cheek that his stubble brushed across my skin and triggered all kind of feelings throughout my body.

He clicked my forefinger down, being considerate about the amount of pressure he laid on my finger.

_Snap._ There was a photo of a white wall.

"Well, that was _definitely_ one of my finest creative moments," I said.

He laughed; the smooth sound brought joy to my face because _I _made him laugh.

"Yeah, I think we need to actually take a photo of something…or _somebody._" Edward glanced down at me. "Do we have any volunteers?"

My eyeballs nearly jumped out. "No way!"

"Oh come on Bella, don't be such a spoil sport!"

I nibbled my lip apprehensively. "I haven't been called that since I was about five…"

"So, is that you agreeing?"

"I don't take a good photo..." I groaned.

His eyebrows flinched. "Is that what you're worried about?" – I nodded my head – "You're just being paranoid," he said dismissively.

I sighed. "You're going to make me aren't you?"

His eye widened with excitement. "I wasn't, but now that you've mentioned it…"

"Fine!" I sauntered off to pose in front of the camera, except when I arrived there I felt body conscious. I wasn't sure what I should have done with my hands, and I tried to smile but my face felt rigid. I should have put my foot down and let him be the subject. I was going to embarrass myself in front of Edward. _Great plan, Bella._

He eyed me for a second and then walked out of the room.

Confusion struck like lightning. Should I have gone after him?

"Edward?" I called out.

"One minute," he answered.

I huffed; I felt even me uncomfortable than I did before.

"I hope you've gone to get a paper bag!" I shouted.

He then remerged into the room with a chair. "Why?"

He walked over and placed the chair next to me.

"To put over my head," I said, laughing a little nervously. I should have thought about what I was going to say before I sounded like an insecure moron.

He laughed. "Shut up, _Isabella_."

I glowered at him. He laughed, _once again_. That seemed to have been becoming a pattern between the two of us.

I sat down while he assembled himself behind the camera.

"If I were you Bella, I would stop trying to argue with me and just do what I say."

Subsequent to his comment, my lips parted in exasperation.

_Snap._

"Shit," I cursed. He smirked, staring at the photo.

"You're not allowed to laugh! That was goddamn evil!" I complained. I tried my hardest to sound serious, but a smile was cracking through.

"It's actually a pretty good photo," he said. He stared at the camera, and picked it up from the tripod.

When he arrived next to me, he placed his hand on my shoulder. He made that area of my body tingle in delight. I decided to take advantage of the situation and lean against his chest, while he showed me the picture.

"See, it's not bad at all," he said.

I gazed with disgust at the photo. I was wide eyed and seemed a little spaced out. I thought my mouth would have been gaping a bit more - thank God it wasn't that bad. In fact, I did have a small smile creeping up, but I still looked a mess.

"That's bad," I said, and then pushed Edward's hand away from me.

"Bella," he spoke in my ear. "You're overreacting."

I stared up into his eyes. He was closer to me than I thought.

"I'm not - I look hideous!"

His eyebrows nudged up slightly, and silence fell upon us. The only thing I heard was his breath and mine. The sound made me want to do things that I shouldn't even think about for so many reasons.

"You look beautiful," he told me. His emeralds were sinking into my dull set of brown eyes. I wanted my kisses to dance upon his mouth. I had such a strong sense of longing in my chest, and I wanted him more than anybody.

I tilted my head towards his face. He gave me a compliment; I haven't received a compliment since before I ran away, and then it was only from my dad when I was having insecure teen moments.

His fingers stroked over my hair. I closed my eyes, enjoying the sensation. I placed my hand on his masculine arm, feeling his muscles underneath his shirt. I wanted him on my lips so bad that places started to throb – I'd never felt like that before.

"Bella…" his voice rasped. "Stop."

I didn't stop. I wanted this too bad. My lips found their way to his perfect ones, and they were just about to feel his skin.

And then he stepped back, and my eyelids suddenly opened.

His face was pained. "You're too young, Bella."

Disappointment crashed down on me, cold and hard.

I felt the heat riding up my neck to my cheeks. Of course I was too young. I wasn't good enough for him, why. Why was I so stupid? I had jeopardized everything!

I nodded back. I was speechless and embarrassed. _Why did I do that? Why, why fucking why?_

He clenched his eyes for a few seconds, and when he reopened them he turned distant.

"I've got work to do. You can watch some T.V. while you wait for your ride home." He went back to that stern face he used in the hospital.

"Sure." I felt like a child that had lost its favorite toy.

So, I went to sit on his leather couch and tried to work out all of his hi-tech gizmos, but my mind didn't really care so much for T.V.

I wanted Edward. He was a piece that was missing from me, and I only realized today that my feelings weren't ones of friendship. My mind kept lapsing back to what he had done for me, but now everything seemed so black and white.

I mentally scolded myself - he would never want me, but it didn't seem plausible just to forget what had happened.

My mind wandered to where that kiss could have led. I closed my eyes, the heat rushing to my cheeks once again, but in the best way imaginable. My clit throbbed, shrieking for me to nurture it.

I couldn't, could I?

My eyes shifted to the stairs, he was only on the second floor.

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**A/N: Thanks you all for reading, and a special thank you to those who keep reviewing! **

**Also to my wonderful beta's Twimarti and Pamela0201 - Thanks so much. Honestly, you two made me feel so much better about this story.  
**

**So then, what do you guys think Bella's going to do?**

**Would love to know your thoughts.**

**Thanks,**

**Kitty. :)  
**


	8. Love is Tough and Times are Rough

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight and all its characters. **

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**Chapter Eight – Love is Tough and Times are Rough**

_Oh Honey, don't let me walk away from this,_

_If I'm trying to fuck up my own life,_

_Then until I figure out why,_

_I think it's best to keep your distance,_

_Lest I fall in love. - Laura Marling_

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**A/N: Thank you so much to my two beta's – Twimarti and Kaydee1005. You two did an awesome job, and of course you completely saved my chapter. So...yeah, thank you! **

**Thank you to all who reviewed and added me to their alerts – it means so much to me. **

**Anyway, to the story, if we remember Bella was left with a bit of a decision. **

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I tiptoed up the stairs. All I could think about was Edward. The way he moved his hand on my shoulder, the way his cheek lightly brushed mine and of course his intense eyes, consuming every piece of me.

I didn't know if I was going to do anything. I was thinking about barging in there and demanding why he wouldn't kiss me. After all, I was eighteen. Though, I didn't know how old he was. I guessed that he was in his late twenties. Twenty-eight, maybe?

My heart thudded as I built up the nerve to go into his office. I crept through his hallway that seemed to have gone on forever, until I heard clicking noises from one of the rooms. _Bingo._

I didn't make any sudden movements, still unsure on what I was going to do. I didn't want to go in there to make myself sound like a little girl who didn't get her way.

I peered through the small gap of his office door; he was sitting at his desk, blankly staring at the computer that had hundreds of words displayed on the screen. His office was big just like the rest of the house - no surprise there. I could only see Edward's broad shoulders as he had his back to me, but there was a mirror on the wall that allowed me to watch the rest of him. I knew that staring at him like that was wrong, but there was a little person inside of me that was enjoying every moment as I stood there.

Suddenly, Edward groaned in a way that nobody should groan while doing their work. He combed his fingers through his tousled hair, and his eyes were clenched together. I watched his hand linger down to the large bulge in him trousers.

I felt my eyebrows quirk slightly.

He tilted his head back and sighed. He seemed as if he was thinking something through - but what?

I found myself watching in anticipation, being sucked into his every move. His thick jaw had an irritated tick, and I saw his teeth graze his bottom lip.

Then without hesitation, he unfastened the lower buttons of his shirt and quickly unbuckled his trousers to reveal his cock, standing in excitement.

I bit my bottom lip so that I didn't make any noises. _Did I make him feel like that?_

I'd never felt so riled up in my life. I wanted him so much that places were yearning to be touched.

My hand lingered down to the hem of my dress. I couldn't ignore it. If I couldn't have Edward, this was the next best thing. My hand slipped up my thigh, sliding across my skin, until it reached my panties, where it crept over the elastic band into a too-well-known territory.

Edward started to pump up and down his length, closing his eyes while doing so. I heard his breath hitch, and while he was finding his release, , ,I was finding mine.

I worked my fingers through my wet folds and started to excite myself while watching Edward. My eyes indulged in his masterpiece of a body, while his hand kept changing speeds. I fantasized kissing his body, licking my tongue all the way up his masculine chest, tasting him, and knowing him better.

My other hand reached my breast and slid under my bra. I rolled my fingers across my nipple, pinching and rubbing until it pebbled. My body was coming alive, wishing that I had Edward's attention. I had to slip my hand into my entrance - I needed to feel something. At least three fingers were needed if I wanted to fantasize what he was doing to me.

I sucked in a breath as I plunged my fingers inside of me. An overwhelming sensation was starting to occur; I so badly wanted to make a noise but I couldn't give away my position.

Edward's hand was working away at his cock, stroking it gently, rubbing the nib, and then he went through fast spells. I saw the pre-cum dripping down, and I wished that I was at the other side of the door so he could take care of himself properly.

I kept pounding my fingers inside of me, egging on the hot feeling in my body that was threatening to cloud my judgment. Threatening to make me scream Edward's name, telling me to run in there, take his dick, and let him enter me.

I heard a growling noise expel from his mouth.

His movements were growing faster, and mine were too.

I took my left hand out of my bra and gripped onto the door frame, while my right thumb rubbed my clit, pushing me to my limits.

"Be-" Edward groaned.

A coarse moan escaped me.

Then, I panicked. I snatched my hand back from my panties.

But it was too late.

Edward's eyes immediately connected with mine in the mirror.

I froze - but Edward didn't.

His eyes were locked with mine, and his hand was still stroking his dick with force. His stare mesmerized me; in any other circumstances, , I would have fled the scene. Instead, I stood there, watching him finish off.

And he allowed me to.

His eyes squinted as he stared at me. It was as if he was undressing me, and there was still that urge inside of me that wanted him to.

He was close to his climax; I'd seen it in a man's face thousands of times.

"Bella," he rasped. Hearing him say my name ignited something inside of me.

He pumped his cock once more, and cum sprayed across his chest. He leaned his head back for a few seconds, while I watched his bare chest panting. He had found his release, and there was a part of me that felt like I had missed out.

He looked back at the mirror, and a small smile curved around his mouth.

That was too much. _What was I doing standing there?_

I darted from his office and raced down the stairs. There were a few seconds where I considered leaving the house, though, there was a feeling inside of me that told me to stay, so I sat on his leather couch where I was supposed to have been anyway - as if nothing had happened.

I couldn't understand how a man could have made me feel like that. I wanted to go in there and get fucked. Usually the thought of sex repulsed me. I grabbed the roots of my hair; I was so stressed, so confused, and it scared me.

Those feelings I had for Edward boiled over any other feelings, and I wasn't sure how to approach them.

I sat there on the sofa for the next half hour. Should I apologize? _No, that would be too embarrassing. _

"Bella," his voice sent chills down my spine.

I turned around. "...yes?" My voice sounded so timid.

"It's four o'clock," he stated. I nodded my head and stood up - he had a different shirt on, so I definitely didn't imagine what had happened. Could I look him in his eyes? I doubted it.

I pushed my feet into my trainers and walked to the door, eyes locked on the ground.

"You will need another check up," he said with an irritable edge to his voice.

"But I only had my stitch-" I stopped talking. You don't need check-ups for having a stitch taken out, everybody knew that. I decided to look up. Edward was staring at me, and then I caught a smile flickering on the edges of his mouth. Suddenly, an overbearing warm feeling radiated inside of me when I understood what he meant.

_He wanted me to come back to his house._

"Okay..." I started, a little hesitant on what to say next. "When would you like me?" I didn't intend my voice to sound suggestive, but it did anyway.

"This time next week should be fine," he told me with a no-nonsense tone.

I nodded my head. "Thank you," I said before leaving the house.

He held my stare for a few more seconds. The feelings I was experiencing - the confusion and fear - all started to dissipate. He did that to me, and the only feeling I knew now was sadness.

His stare disconnected. "Goodbye Bella," he said briskly. His velvety voice held me for a couple of seconds before I reluctantly left his house. As I walked down the path, I heard the door slam with a bang.

Did I cross the line?

_Of course you did, Bella._

Edward let me cross that line. He wanted me to come back to his house. I smiled to myself, but not for long, because now I had to wait for somebody to pick me up.

The sadness started to build up even more inside of me. Nothing serious could happen between Edward and I, and that was a a a fact. He was a rich man, who probably saw me as a fling. I was ashamed to admit it, but I didn't even care if he only saw me as a fling. I just wanted to be loved, without him knowing what I am.

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The commotion at the house was threatening. Rosalie was screaming and stomping around the room, and Sam was shouting. Everybody was shooting me poisonous stares. What had I done now?

I hesitantly walked through the narrow kitchen. Paul had picked me up from Edward's house, and I made sure I was near his pathway in case _anybody _showed up.

"What's the matter?" I asked urgently, my voice cutting through the corrosive argument.

A silence suddenly fell upon the room, uncomfortable and tense. Everybody seemed distressed. Sam's demeanor was cold and angry. Jared looked impassive, and Lauren seemed unhinged - which was a first. I followed her stare that was lingering on a brown envelope on the fold-up table.

My heart fell. Something big must have happened.

The only noise being echoed throughout the main room now was the rain hitting the windows, and the sound of Rosalie sobbing.

"What's wrong with Rosalie?" I asked, hoping to get some kind of response.

"We've received some mail," Sam said, his words slicing in the air.

"What mail?" I asked sharply. I couldn't help but be on the defensive; their attitudes were making me nervous.

"Don't!" Rosalie cried all of a sudden at Sam.

I held my breath. Rosalie could sometimes be unpredictable with her moods - but she barely ever let it out on Sam.

"Shut the fuck up, Rose. You're beginning to irritate me," he snapped.

The tears sprinted down her face once again, and she hastily tried to wipe them away. "Bella doesn't need to see them."

_What? What didn't I need to see? _

"See what?" The panic rippled through me; it felt as if I had a weight in my stomach.

Lauren snatched the brown envelope. "Here's your present," she told me icily. She stomped towards me through the room, and Rosalie's face snapped around to stare at her.

As Lauren approached me, Rosalie snatched the crook of her arm and yanked her back. Lauren's eyes widened, and I heard her growl. _What the hell was happening?_

Before I could say anything, Lauren lashed her hand out across Rosalie's face. I flinched at the sound of the loud _clap_, and the sound alone allowed me to have an insight of the stinging pain on Rose's cheek.

"Lauren! What the fuck?" I couldn't string together a sentence that actually showed how I felt. At that time, swearing seemed to be my only answer to anything.

Rosalie cupped her cheek, and her eyes were brimmed with tears. "You're such a bitch, Lauren. I really hope you fucking die!"

Lauren scowled at Rosalie. "I'm sure you'll be there before me."

"Could you two just shut the fuck up!" Sam roared. The rough edge and loudness of his voice shut Lauren up suddenly, but, not Rosalie; she was now groaning aggressively through her teeth.

"Should I ring Emmett?" Paul asked, sounding a little halfhearted.

"He needs to die! What he has done is disgusting!" Rosalie continued to scream.

I think I knew what she was talking about, and the fear was starting to consume me once again. My attention flitted from Sam, to Rosalie, to Lauren. Rosalie was on her knees now, curled up in a protective position.

"Fuck, Sam, just get her another hit," Lauren groaned.

"Do you think I'm going to get her another hit while I have this situation on my hands?" He let out a deep sigh. It seemed as if his coarse eyebrows were sewn together. "You know what really pisses me off? The audacity of this fucker. I hope he knows that he's lying on his deathbed."

"This is about James, isn't it?" I asked, my voice going shaky when I mentioned _his _name.

Lauren rolled her eyes, and then hastily stepped closer - so Rosalie couldn't do anything - and shoved the envelope to my chest. I grabbed the brown envelope, the rough texture of the cheap paper made me shudder. I took another glance at Rosalie, as if to ask if it was okay to look through it. She started to cry again, and the guilt waved over me. I had to look in the envelope. I just had to.

As I opened the thin package, I could see three pieces of card that were the exact same size. As I took them out carefully, I could hear Sam talking, "Who does he think he is, threatening me."

I finally stared at the sticky cards. It was as if they were burning in my hands. I felt sick. Tears were threatening to escape, but I sniffed them back. I felt exposed. Naked, even. That envelope had showed me how vulnerable I was, and if I was scared before, it was nothing compared to the gut-ripping feelings I had now.

"He's a maniac," I concluded. My voice was going to break down.

I slammed the envelope and the cards on the table, while everybody eyed me, waiting for my response.

"Who does he think he's threatening?" I heard Sam say. I looked up to his face - he was talking to himself, and shaking his head; he was obviously in deep thought.

I felt the anger spiral down to my knuckles, and I clenched them tight. I couldn't believe he still thought this was about him? Would he ever give a shit about us?

"He's threatening me," I said curtly.

His gaze shifted toward my face, and there was something threatening in his eyes. Christ, that look put me on edge. His dirty brown eyes had turned into smoldering coals; his stare burned on my face, demanding me to take back my words.

"Why would he give a shit about you?" he asked, his tone turning abrasive. "Are you considering yourself to be of some sort of importance, kid?"

I froze on the spot, and gulped. My harmonious moments with Edward were a million miles from here. "...Why isn't he victimizing somebody...like, uh...Lauren?" I asked hesitantly.

"Leave me out of this," Lauren snarled. She sashayed next to Sam and placed her hand on his bare arm, trying to tell me who she would stick up for.

He instantly hit her hand off him, and she gritted her teeth. It actually looked as if her eyes were glistening with tears. Why did she even care? She knew Sam was an asshole.

"You know why he's picked you," Sam told me, lowering his voice.

"No, I don't."

He gave me one cold glare, and the silence once again cloaked the room.

I took one more look at the contents of the envelope. The photos of me were unlike the ones that Edward took earlier. At least then I seemed innocent, somewhat aware what was going on.

The photos of me that had come from James were incredibly intrusive. I was sitting in Jared's car looking worried and wracked with nerves. My brown eyes seemed vacant - so far away; I couldn't believe that the photos were from this afternoon. I tried to think if I could remember any camera flashes, but it was useless. The fear crept into my mind, not letting me think straight.

I just couldn't keep staring at the photos of me; they made me feel sick. The shots were too close. How was I meant to sleep at night knowing that this man could be so close to me without being detected?

I was shaking, and I felt embarrassed by my reaction. I looked at everyone. The atmosphere was morbid and I couldn't stand it. Everything felt so hopeless.

"Well, if nobody's got anything to say, I'll get ready," my voice had a pinch to it, as I swallowed back the overwhelming urge to breakdown into tears.

Nobody said another word, so I fled out of the room and up the stairs, with uncontrollable tears escaping down my face. As I entered my dark bedroom, I lay on the bed and tried to calm myself down. I could feel the worry wrinkles on my forehead.

"God...what can I do?" I whispered to myself.

_Nothing._

There was nothing to do; I had to wait and see what happened with Emmett. At that moment, I wanted to go to sleep, so the tightness in my chest could ease off, but instead, I had to get ready for work.

I thought back to Edward - I wished he could help me, but I remembered what he said about his view on girls who drank underage. What would he think of a prostitute who had just reached the age of consent?

I sighed. I was trapped, and that thought increased my worry.

Suddenly, I heard the floorboards creek outside of the room.

"...Rosie?" my voice croaked. The door flung open, and Sam appeared in the doorframe.

His face was stern - no cockiness, no surly smile. Should I have been scared, or should I have been relieved?

"We need to talk," he said. That was a line I had never heard him say before.

I knew I had a scornful look on my face, but I was doubtful. We hadn't been in a room together, _alone,_ since that night when he had hit me.

"What do you want?" I retorted.

His eyes pinched together for a second. "Iz, let me make this clear. This behavior of yours has been becoming a lot more common recently - and I don't fucking like it," he stated.

I didn't say anything back for a few seconds. I knew he was coming in here to humiliate me. "Okay." I was certainly not going to apologize.

He strolled over to the bed and sat right next to my feet, eyeing my legs.

"Was that all you wanted?" I asked, trying to be calm.

A smile struck on his face. Ah, of course, there was no Sam without an arrogant smile lingering on his face. "I actually wanted to talk to you about something serious."

"Serious? Okay..."

His hand skidded up my leg, and the sudden friction made my heart leap.

"Sam!" I chided, and jerked my leg, trying to retract it back. But Sam suddenly tightened his hand around my leg, making my attempt unsuccessful.

"Iz, you know why he has picked you," he said.

I parted my lips, astonished. "What?"

I wasn't sure what to say, or what to do. Should I snap and say 'Stop fucking touching me!' or should I just wait it out and maybe he would stop. I looked back at his hand straining my skin - his grip was hurting me.

"It's because he knows what you mean to me," he told me coolly.

_What? _

"What I mean to you?" I repeated, confused.

He shuffled closer to me. The intimacy was more than uncomfortable, it made my skin shift.

"He must know about our connection," Sam said into my ear. His breath brushed past my skin, making me shudder.

"There's no way he can know," I responded weakly. Sam's hand was brushing my leg, and there was nothing I could do or say to tell him to stop. He was my pimp; he could put me back on the streets as easily as he picked me up.

"How do you explain the photos, Iz? Or the stalking? He must know. He knows how much you mean to me, that's why he's out to get you."

_How much I meant to him? _"Sam...What are you talking about?"

As he leaned his body even closer to me, I felt the mattress weigh down to my side. His rough hand had worked its way up to my panty-line, and I felt his erection sticking into my thigh. He made me nervous.

"Iz, you know how I like you. Try and think about it from James' perspective. You're a clever girl, you should catch on."

"Since when have you liked me?" I blurted out.

His hand finally reached his desired destination, and he pressed his forefinger on my clit. I would be lying if I said I hated it. The same hot feeling from earlier was sent through my body, but my mind wanted me to stop enjoying it. As he continued to rub my clit, making me wet, I found it hard to detest him.

"Iz, don't act so fucking stupid," he whispered in my ear once again.

He increased the pressure of his fingers on me, and I had to catch my breath.

"Sam...Stop it," I said. I could see the lust clouding in his eyes.

"You don't want me to, Iz," he told me. There he went, trying to speak for me, and all senses wanted him to continue. But in my heart of hearts, I wanted him to stop and leave me alone. My clients never touched me in that way, and the previous times that I slept with Sam - foreplay was never involved.

Sleeping with Sam was just another one of my regrets that I never wanted to think about. The first night we were together, I was high. But that's not an excuse. In fact, that wasn't the real reason why I slept with him. It was because of Victoria. It was after we had found out that Victoria was having a relationship with one of her clients.

Sam went ballistic. I had never seen him so enraged. Victoria was crying her eyes out; Jared had overheard them talking in the bedroom, and that was when he started blackmailing her. I remembered Victoria telling me that Jared initially asked her to sleep with him, but because she declined, she had to give all her earnings to him instead. Sam never found out about that, and I hadn't wanted to be the one to tell him. At the end, it didn't matter that Victoria gave all her money to Jared - he told Sam anyway.

Everything went downhill when Victoria had been found out. You know that life is really fucking bad when you're a prostitute and things are _still_ getting worse.

It's hard _not _to think about Victoria's outcome. I think about it everyday.

The main reason why I first slept with Sam was because I was scared. After the first few times we were together, I thought that I was having a hold on him. Then the reality crashed down on me about who Sam really was. I soon learned that he was the one who had the hold on me.

Sam suddenly grabbed my panties and pulled them down my legs. The cold air brushed across my center, causing my body to jerk in frustration.

"Sam, get off me!" I shouted. His head glanced up, and the arrogant smile sprawled across his face.

"I just wanna fuck you, Iz," he told me outright.

"Stop it." I pleaded, "_Please."_

His eyes bore straight into mine, and I wasn't sure what he was going to do. My instincts kicked in, and I tried to prepare myself for a violent reaction.

"Baby..." he cooed, "I just had to let you know how I feel."

Then he burst out laughing, and I flinched from the sound. My reaction made him laugh harder - the sound was hoarse and sent shivers down my spine. I felt embarrassed and vulnerable, laying there uncovered. He suddenly climbed over my body, and was so close to me that there must have been a couple of millimeters of space between the ends of our noses.

He crooked one of his thick eyebrows. "You need to stop fighting me, Iz. You'll only hurt yourself."

"Get off me Sam," I tried to answer coolly.

He sighed, and then stepped off the bed and straightened his shirt. I quickly scrambled to pull my panties up. He stood there and took pleasure in my frantic movements, which pushed me even further.

_Maybe I did need to stop resisting. _

"So did Emmett's bro give you a hard time today?" he asked.

I kept quiet.

"That bad, huh?" I knew he was thinking about all the ways I had to bed him, and probably everything he made me do. I could tell because he had the bittersweet glisten in his eyes.

I still kept quiet.

"Well, you might not want to keep quiet. I want to know _all_ about it." I snapped my head up, alarmed.

"Why?" I asked, frantically.

"Kid, you didn't fuck me." He then paused. "Besides, I love it when you talk dirty."

I sighed. I knew I would have to come up with something, and it was apparent that my bullshitting skills were improving.

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**A/N: Thank you so much for reading. I'd love to know what you think about the relationship between Bella and Edward, or what you think about Sam.**

**Also, if you have the time, it would mean the world to me if you look at my Obsession contest entry. Also, voting is still open, *hint hint* ;) .net/u/2337304/ - it's called 'The Challenge' and it's my first attempt at writing a twisted Darkella.**

**Thank you again, if you have any questions – PM me.**

**Kitty.**


	9. My Little Runaway

**Disclaimer: SM owns all that is Twilight. I just lure the characters into the whoring business.**

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**Chapter Nine - My Little Runaway**

I know I said I loved you,

but I'm thinking I was wrong,

I'm the first to admit that I'm still pretty young,

and I never meant to hurt you when I wrote you ten love songs. ~ **Laura Marling**

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**EPOV**

I stared at my screen, but none of the words made sense.

The truth was that I couldn't stop thinking about _her;_ Bella.

I groaned and closed all the windows on my computer. I could only think about her porcelain skin, her rosy plump lips and those eyes. Shit, those warm hazelnut eyes that held so many secrets, imploring me to find out.

She irritated me to no end. I didn't know if every second word that left her sweet mouth was a lie. I haven't felt so fixated about a woman since Tanya, and that was saying something. I was sure that when Tanya came back from New York, I would be fine; we would probably start things again. When she left, our relationship was left in the air. She knew how I felt, but she told me that she needed time. I always admired Tanya for her assertive behaviour; she knew what she wanted and was incredibly ambitious.

My eyes lingered over the phone - he said he would call at 11.35. I checked my watch. Okay, it was 11.32. I guessed he was a precise guy, and that was what I needed.

My mind kept averting back to Bella lying in the hospital bed, her eyelids gently shut and her body weak and fragile. I thought she was another girl who liked to play on the wrong side of the tracks, one of those types who deserved what was coming to them.

At that same time, I didn't understand how anybody could hurt a girl like Bella. She was a sleeping angel. Well, I thought that, but when she woke up her angelic qualities were diminished by the bitter tone of her words. She resented being in there.

That triggered other kinds of thoughts in my mind. Was she trying to commit suicide? ...Or did she hate our healthcare system?

Bella running off encouraged my curiosity. I should have left it then and there, since there was something about her that told me she was damaged. I couldn't understand how somebody her age could have been so alone. Nobody rung up the hospital, and all the nurses were talking about her, wondering who she was. As soon as they came to the conclusion that she was probably homeless, they didn't have a second thought about her - which was probably why she left so easily.

Why did she leave?

She was the girl with no records.

A complete mystery.

I checked my watch once more; he should be ringing in one minute.

The problem with Bella was that she was too young. I had endured three sleepless nights - why was I obsessing over her so much? _I'm ten years older than her._

I thought about when she was in my house, watching me jerk off. My dick twitched at the thought. She didn't know that I could see her reflection in the computer screen. I will admit that I enjoyed remembering her eager eyes, her eager lips, her eager hands...

If only she was a few years older than eighteen, then it would be perfect. If only I knew more about her, maybe I wouldn't feel so unhinged. Though, I think any other guy in this situation would feel the same. For crying out loud, she was being chased by a man with a knife with and decided that it was no big deal. That fact alone told me that she was trouble. She had obviously decided not to tell me anything extremely personal about herself; it was as if she had a barrier surrounding her, and I couldn't get through. I hated that fact.

I exhaled once again, wishing that I could take my mind off her. Two weeks ago, Tanya seemed to have been the only woman I cared about. I tried once again to think about her features, her straight, fiery hair that felt like silk when I touched it, and those pencil skirts she wore that hugged her sexy curves. I smiled, remembering the times that I got the pleasure to take them off, and especially that one particular time when I ripped the seams.

Then the frustration catapulted into my mind again, as I tried to envision Tanya's pale blue irises. But of course they melted into Bella's rich almond-shaped eyes. The two women were polar opposites: Tanya was the spicy, exotic summer while Bella was the cool, mysterious winter.

Suddenly, the phone bleated for my attention.

I checked my watch; he rung on time - just as I expected.

"Doctor Cullen," I answered.

"Hey, it's Mike," he greeted in his thick Chicago accent. Mike was a good friend of mine that I had known since college. Given that I couldn't stop obsessing over Bella, I decided to ring him to give myself some piece of mind.

"Mike, just on time," I noted. "So, what's the update?"

"Okay, I'm going to be straight with you Edward. I didn't pick up a lot of information about this Bella," Mike said. I held my breath for a moment, and didn't respond. He cleared his throat and assumed that my silence meant that he should carry on. "Well, I know she's a bookish person, more clever than you would expect with somebody who has her type of looks."

I made an indistinctive noise for him to continue. Truth was that I already knew that, and it wasn't new or relevant information which would benefit me.

"Of course, you already know that," Mike voiced my thoughts. "But, I'm telling you, this girl is secretive. I haven't been able to find much on her."

"How come?" I asked, my curiosity growing.

"Three years ago she was filed as a missing person, and from then on - blank. Na-da."

I fell silent for a minute as the news processed through my mind. I definitely wasn't expecting that.

"Edward?" Mike asked, cutting through the quiet.

"What else do you know?"

I heard the flittering sound of papers on his end, and he drew a breath. "Well, she wouldn't have even been filed as a missing person if her dad wasn't a cop. I went back to her hometown in Oregon and found out that she wrote a goodbye letter. Usually, when there's a l aetter involved, , the police don't make it a big priority to search for the missing person."

"I see." I was shocked, and had difficulty responding to this news. Even though I hired Mike as a private investigator, I didn't think I would hear that she was a missing person...or a runaway.

To be honest, I didn't know what I expected.

"Apart from that, I found out where she was from, information about her family and how well she did at school," Mike continued.

I took a quiet half a minute to absorb what was happening - and Mike respected that. I guessed he was used to the surprised silences as he was usually hired to find out if adultery was committed in marriages. It was sad to say that he never needed an extra job as there were so many marriage breakdowns.

"Just tell me everything." The words felt wrong coming from my mouth because I wanted to respect Bella's privacy, but it was hard to say 'no' when it was laid on a plate in front of me.

He told me the bits of information he had promised. She came from Newport, Oregon. She got good grades in English, but she barely passed Calculus. Then, I found out a piece of information about her that made me have to draw a line.

Her mother had died.

"I think that's enough, Mike," I said briskly. "Thanks for your services."

"What? Is that all you wanted to know? I think this girl is in trouble," he told me, sounding urgent.

"I don't think it's my business."

He sighed. "Well, Edward, call me if you want to know anymore." And with that, he put the phone down.

I felt awful, and it annoyed me that I didn't feel close to being as content as I wanted. I combed my hands through my hair, a physical sign that I was stressed.

_Her mother had died._

That sentence rung through my head. She was thirteen when it happened; _so young_. I felt like I had ruined everything, the mysterious Bella was being broken down - by me - by my trying to find things about her that maybe should have been left unknown.

Shit, she was obviously still broken up about it. She was a runaway.

I wasn't sure if that intrigued me more, or whether I shouldn't open the door when she arrives at my house next Tuesday.

I needed to at least attempt to stop thinking about the situation. I started to walk out of my office, but before I left, my mind was drawn to the mahogany cabinet that was cramped in the corner of my office. For the past two weeks it was a solid reminder of what was still hanging over my head. Tanya was a bitch for doing this to me, but it didn't make me hate her.

Obviously, the cabinet wasn't the object that made me think of Tanya - it was what it contained.

I ran my finger over the door knob; the wood felt smooth and inviting beneath my skin. I had promised myself that I wouldn't look at it again before she came back, so it wouldn't be such a blow if her verdict was a negative.

But, something clicked in my brain. I needed to face what could happen.

I swung the door open. The cabinet needed to be organized - and badly. There was folder after folder shoved in every vacant space. There in the corner was the black case that had been untouched for the past month.

I guessed thinking about Bella made me question my feelings for Tanya, and made me think about whether I wanted this as badly as I thought I did.

I carefully picked up the box and flicked up the golden latch. The box automatically opened, and there imbedded in the creamy satin material was a white gold band that cradled one expensive rock. She was worth it.

I closed the box instantly, and placed it back into the cabinet. I buried my head in my hands, tired and frustrated. I knew opening that box was a bad idea. What if she came back from New York and said no?

But most importantly, what if I rescinded the offer?

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**Sorry for the long awaited update, but RL has been getting in the way, boo!**

**Yeah, so, Edward has problems too, albeit, not as bad as Bella's. So, I'd love to know what you think to his side of the story.**

**Thank you to everybody who has stuck reading this fic and added it onto their favourites/alerts - it means a lot to me. You know I always love listening to your thoughts. *hint hint***

**Plus, thank you to my amazing betas, Twimarti and Kaydee1005. This chapter wouldn't be what it is without them.  
**

**KC.  
**


	10. The Nicest Things

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight, it belongs to SM**

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**Chapter Ten - The Nicest Things**

You plague my mind.  
I can never go outside.  
I will never go back to being blind. - _Laura Marling_

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Before I was about to leave, I gazed at Joe-Joe, my bear that was one of my lasting objects from home. I traced my finger along his black stitched mouth, then stuffed him into my pillowcase.

The last week wasn't normal. Business was thankfully slow, and I had been getting more time to sleep; more sleep meant more time to think about things. As if I wasn't scared enough, I thought about James, but those thoughts scared the hell out of me, making me stare at the bedroom's door at night.

Other times, I thought about my mother. I had been thinking about my family a lot lately, especially my mother. I missed her sweet fragrance and all the comfy, woolen cardigans she used to wear. When I didn't think about her, I thought about Edward. Sometimes my thoughts turned optimistic, like maybe he would care if he found out about my occupation and my problems, and maybe he could help Rosalie and I find a way out.

Even though I knew they were false hopes, they made me feel slightly better. Usually, those thoughts would drift into fantasies, thinking about his warm, strong arms wrapped around my body, and his hot kisses capturing my lips. I wanted to feel the passion; I wanted to feel some sort of...affection.

I took one last glimpse in the mirror, satisfied with how I looked. I had taken special care with my appearance that morning, trying not to overdo it like I did for work. Afterwards, I made my way outside and waited for Jared to grab his car keys.

The cold squeezed my skin, and made me hold my breath as if I was cooping all the warmth inside me. I stared back into the house - Sam was cleaning his records, one of the first activities he had done all week that wasn't James-related. He had been obsessing for the most part of the week, and it was frightening. My discomfort and depression was finally turning into something more sinister, something that I was finding hard to cope with – paranoia.

It was a Tuesday morning, , ,and I had already told Sam why Edward wanted me over today. _Apparently _Edward enjoyed my company the first time round, and and he wanted to see me again, which technically – I think – was true. Since he was Emmett's brother it was supposedly 'on the house', which was probably hard for Sam to say, but he valued Emmett's help too much. Not that I knew what the two were doing.

"Iz, get in the car," Jared ordered as he strolled outside. I nodded my head and obliged to his command. I felt like they were trying to get me out the house as soon as possible. That was why we had set off earlier than I intended. Paul even woke me up. _I had never been woken up before. _

Again, I was back in the cheap upholstery of the car, and I stared at his fingers tapping away at the steering wheel nervously. Soon, the water came pelting on the windowshield, and the wipers forced the rain away.

I thought about how quiet the past week had been. Before I entered the main room last Thursday, I overheard Paul and Collin talking about how word had got out about Sam's trashy business deals. I guessed it must have had something to do with Rosalie's client a few weeks ago, the one who had been head-butted by Sam.

_What goes around comes around._

The rich neighborhood welcomed me back and again had me in complete awe. I gazed at the gardens that were filled to the brim with flowers: roses, freesias, and petunias, but they drooped by the force of the rain.

Suddenly the car came to a halt. I turned to Jared, expecting an explanation.

"This is your final stop," he told me without amble.

"What?" I immediately replied. "But, he lives up the road, up there–"

"Yes, I know, Iz." _Bella._ "But I've got things to do." My heart thudded. The thought of being alone wasn't a happy one.

"It's a two minute drive," I implore.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" He punches the steering wheel and glares at me. "Do what I fucking say!"

His outburst knocks the air out of me, and I timidly nod in response.

I opened the door apprehensively and stepped out, resenting the disagreeable weather. Jared's hand immediately struck out to shut the door, and before I could even bat an eyelid, ,he was gone down the road. He didn't even say goodbye, what a fucking shame.

I frowned, hearing the wind crying through the air and the feeling of the rain hammering at my skin. I would be completely drenched by the time I arrived at Edward's house, and that fact really annoyed me. All the work I had put into my appearance just to let a jerk throw me out in the rain.

I walked up the street with haste. It was familiar, but I knew the only way I could quickly seek access to his road was if I walked up the grassy hill in front of me. I sucked in a breath, and stomped toward the hill with all the energy I had.

I kept looking over my shoulder. Was I being paranoid? No, I was being _careful_.

As I charged up, I stared once more at the road behind me. The rain was tumbling down as if it was punching the ground, and my vision became blurry.

Wait...could I see a tall man in the distance?

A dark figure was there, that was for sure, and my palms started to sweat despite the cold weather. I looked up at the hill again and hurried up. At the same time, my neck kept swiping back to see the figure...or was it a lamp post?

All I could think about was making my way over that goddamn hill and being safe.

My hair was drenched, and I was so eager to get to the other side that I started to fist the grass that was in front of me, looking for support to carry me over.

Could I hear footsteps?

I cranked my head round once again, and the figure was still there. I whimpered as I struggled across the grass, but as I turned around, the front of my foot slipped down the grass, causing my body to lose its stability.

I slammed into the ground. My face was two centimeters deep in mud, and I quickly scrambled to my feet. I wasn't going to have a second look behind me until I was at the top.

Hot tears clouded in my eyes. I was so pissed off because all of this could have been prevented if he had just driven around the fucking corner. Instead, I had dirt all over my clothes and my make-up was ruined.

When I reached Edward's street, his house was as clear as day (a day that didn't belong to Forks), since it was the biggest. Thankfully, it was no more than thirteen seconds away.

As I stood outside his door, my arms were ridden with goose pimples and my hair was so wet it stuck to my face. I knocked on the door at a fast pace making sure it rung throughout the house.

I had to wait for at least a minute, which didn't do wonders to my nerves and I didn't dare look back in case my thoughts were real. Eventually, he opened the door to his mini-mansion. As soon as his delicious face appeared in the doorframe, heat flooded to my face and my arms instantly wrapped around my body, desperately trying to hide the state of my clothing. It was humiliating.

He looked me up and down, staring at my soaking attire. I could tell that he noticed the dirt that had clung to my clothes due to the fall.

Edward was wearing a tight tee and gray gym pants, and looked delectable. He must have been working out since he had a dark patch of sweat sloping down his chest. My eyes scanned over his body – you could see his fine, chiseled pecs and his toned biceps. I suddenly had a hot, itchy feeling underneath the collar of my shirt.

"I'm sorry I'm early," I said.

He cocked his head and stared at me intensely from under his lashes. He may have seemed composed, but his eyes had something in them that was untamed.

"Come in," he said dryly. I obliged and scrubbed the bottoms of my shoes on his doormat before heading inside his warm house.

"Sorry to interrupt your workout," I spoke softly. I really wished I could have stopped apologizing, but the 'S' word kept slipping out from my mouth.

"I'd just finished," he replied. His bluntness made him sound more agitated, and I wondered if my being early pissed him off.

"Oh." There wasn't anything else to say.

"I thought you had some kind of chauffeur. Why are you so wet?" His voice changed into authoritative mode. It reminded me of the vivid scenes I had assembled in my mind earlier in the week.

"He didn't have time to drive me up here, so he dropped me off further down the road."

He weaved his fingers through his disarrayed hair and sighed. His gaze landed on me once again, and I swore he was taking in my body with his eyes – but I could have been wrong. I suddenly thought about what happened last week, and I pinched my arm at the embarrassing thought.

"I was just about to get into the shower," he declared. "Follow me. We'll get you some towels to dry up."

I agreed, although judging by his tone I knew it wasn't an option. I followed him up the stairs, passing more photos hung up on the walls. Edward always seemed conscious of his smile in every photo, somewhat hesitant. In reality, he wasn't shy and he didn't hold back. It just made me even more curious about the man he was.

When we reached the landing, he walked into the second door to his right, and of course, , .he led me into a gigantic bathroom, which had pristine white walls with matching furniture. I looked down and stared at his floor, which was like a chessboard in black and red. Everything was so modern and classy; the room made me feel out of place.

He turned on the shower, and the water slammed onto the shower floor. It only took a few moments for the room to be filled with warm vapors that would soon blur my vision. Edward picked up a fluffy towel from a cupboard and then walked back to me.

He stared at the towel for a few seconds, and that stare reconnected with my gaze. His green eyes were glazed over with zeal. That one look made my pulse beat harder.

"You must have been out in the rain for a long time." His voice was a near murmur. I gently nodded my head in response. I couldn't help but marvel at him: how his eyes were tracing over my face, how his lean torso was dilating in and out, and how his knuckles were gripped so tightly around that towel.

Edward's hand rose up to my face, and without warning, he caressed the towel on my damp cheeks. His intense stare was locked with mine, and I was surprised by his action.

He moved closer to me, and that was when I started to feel this ardent wave of heat. It must have been the warmth of the bathroom, but places started to tingle.

I smelled the sweat from his workout. In any other situation I would have been disgusted, but in this...it made me feel…different. His hand was working the towel on my bare skin, relaxing me, helping me lose my inhibitions…daring me.

He then lowered onto my shoulder, ,and continued drying me off.

"Lower," I hummed.

He briefly stopped for a second. It was as if the hesitant Edward had stepped out from the photos. His eyes then sharpened – momentarily – and then he considered my demand. He lowered the towel to the top of my breast, and I felt his fingers stroking me through the towel. I was having a hard time concealing my deep breaths.

Edward's hand suddenly fell lower onto the curve of my breast.

"Bella…" he purred, "…we really shouldn't."

I silenced him, making a light 'shhing' noise. His large hand cupped my breast, but the towel was still in between us, and I was sure we were both thinking the same thing – would we cross the limit?

"Lower," I repeated.

Edward didn't have any second thoughts this time, his hand slid down my stomach, falling exactly where I wanted him to go.

And then the towel dropped.

For a moment, all we could hear was the hissing noise of the shower in the background.

Then, he grabbed me, pushing me against the bathroom wall, and before I knew it, ,he was undoing the buttons on my shorts. I was fascinated by his quick, smooth actions; his face was in total control.

I locked my hands around his neck, while at the same time he stared straight into my eyes, pushing his body into me. I felt the cooler temperature of his strong fingers collaborate with my hot, wet folds.

I'd never been that intimate with a man in my life. He started to caress my clit, and I wanted to collapse into the feeling. No man had ever made me feel like that.

"You're so…," Edward begun, but the sentence was left in the air and ended by my moaning.

He teased me in a way that made my legs want to crumple onto the floor. Edward knew what he was doing as he circled his fingers around my entrance. I wanted him so badly; I wanted him to thrust into me.

"Edward…please," I begged.

I felt his light kisses graze my neck, and I drove my lower body into his hand, pleading for him to push into me. But he wasn't done playing.

"You like that?" His mouth curved into that mocking smile.

My breath hitched. "Uh-huh."

His roguish grin was still displayed. "I'm doing this to you, Bella," he whispered in my ear. "I want you to always remember how I've made you feel."

I bit my lip. I needed him badly. His eyes flashed away from my face for a second, and took in my frustrated state. I could tell he enjoyed watching me like that.

He then plunged two lengthy fingers into my wet entrance, ,and I inhaled loudly, throwing my head back and gripping onto his t-shirt. His fingers started pumping into me, feeding me an overbearing sensation that heated my insides.

That was better than everything I'd thought of in the week.

"Edward, keep on…" I swallowed the rest of my sentence.

He pushed my body up the wall, and I felt the tendons on his arms tense up.

"You think you can mess around with my thoughts?" he said in between breaths. I felt his other hand creeping up my shirt, making his way to breast. "I can play with your emotions, little girl." He unhooked my bra at the back, in one simple action, and started playing with my left breast.

His other hand curved inside of me, and the strong, tepid feeling was demanding to break out of my body.

"Edward!" I screamed. Every piece of my dignity belonged to him. He was the only man I wanted, I _needed._

"That's fucking right, Bella. None of your little friends can make you feel how I make you feel."

I clawed my nails on the wall in desperation. I could feel my insides tightening, and I knew I was going to reach my climax soon.

"You need me, Bella…" And then he hit a spot inside me that felt like he had broken a barrier.

"Fuck!" I screamed in delight. Tremors released through me and my head rested on the wall for a few seconds as I enjoy the aftershocks.

My eyes snapped to his face. He looked proud. I'd never known such feelings existed without having sex.

"Are you ready for round two?" he quipped suggestively, his beautiful deep voice seducing me so easily, and his erection stroking my leg.

Most girls would jump at the opportunity, but if there was something I knew perfectly – I wasn't most girls. As much as I wanted to fuck Edward senseless, there was a little voice in my head that told me to stop everything. Or at least pause. I wanted Edward, but now my feelings had changed. It wasn't a crush, it was something more. I wanted to _be_ with Edward. I needed to know that he could be there.

I sounded selfish, and I knew I was being selfish, because I wanted Edward to somehow be my scapegoat.

"Hold your horses," I said, trying to sound equally as seductive. "You don't think I'm that easy?"

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**A/N: Huge thank you to my two beta's - Twimarti and Kaydee1005. They send me back my chapters and eventually make me mutter... 'Oh my Lord...what would I do without them...'**

**I know it's been ages, but I've just been terribly distracted. There is no other excuse, I'm sorry!  
**

**Anyway, I would love to know how you think it's been going so far. I want to know if you hate Bella's cockblocking skills, or how much you dislike Sam...or like him...I mean, it's your choice.**

**On the last note, I'm working on a contest right now called the Saving Bree Tanner contest. It would mean the world if you have a look at the entries or enter yourself! There are brill prizes ;) **

http:/ www . fanfiction . net /u/2450360/ **(obviously you'll need to take out the spaces!)**

**Thank you for reading,**

**KC.  
**


	11. Songs for you, Truths for me

**Disclaimer: All characters belong to Stephenie Meyer**

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**Chapter 11: Songs for you, truths for me.**

**'I gave up morals when I took up you, and I know it's boring to hear about another young truth, but what a typically shit thing to do." - Laura Marling**

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I lay next to Edward on his sofa, his leg was nestled between mine, and his hand was stroking my arm adoringly, sending tremors through me. Every now and then we'd fall into this intense stare and then kiss. It was nice...it was intimate, something that I had secretly wished for a long time.

Edward had just come out of the shower and found me waiting for him on his sofa. I wanted to go and wait in his bedroom, but I thought that could be too intrusive, since I wasn't sure where I stood with him. Was I just a bit of fun for him or was I something more?

Edward looked even more divine post-shower; his hair was in a wet mess and it smelled like almonds. Plus, only half of his shirt was buttoned up, which allowed me to stroke his smooth, toned chest. He didn't say anything about me not pleasuring him, but I could tell by his actions that he was agitated and eager for me. For the first time, I wanted to be a man's submissive, but I knew that was the only thing I was good at...and it scared me a little. I was nervous at the prospect of giving in too quickly - what if he wouldn't want anything to do with me afterwards? I told myself that he was different, but I wasn't so sure.

We stopped kissing so we could come up for air, and then Edward gazed straight into my eyes; his stare was hard as if he was trying to read me.

"What's the matter?" I asked after a few minutes, nervously pulling the ends of Edward's pale, blue shirt that he lent me. Well, I say lent, but he pretty much made me, using the excuse that he 'didn't want me to catch pneumonia in my wet clothes.'

His crooked smile glowed handsomely on his face, ,and he replied, "I was wondering what you were thinking about."

I crashed my head into his chest and inhaled the sandalwood off his body. "What do _you_ think I'm thinking about?"

He chuckled, causing the vibrations from his chest to ripple through me. "I wish I knew."

I secretly smiled, reveling in the fact that I was mysterious to him.

"Have you taken any more photographs since last week?" I asked.

A ghost of smile was on his lips, but he tried to be composed. "Not since you," he told me smoothly.

For some reason, that made me very happy. "Right, I see…and why is that?" I queried, loving the fact that I was putting him on the spot. I wasn't going to lie; I wanted to see him squirm.

I wasn't in luck. "Because I wanted to take more photos of you." Damn, that boy was bold.

"I don't know why," I scoffed.

"You're photogenic and interesting. You carry a certain… je ne sais quoi," he told me.

"Oh," I answered. That was all I could say, because I wasn't a hundred percent certain what 'je ne sais quoi' meant, and I wasn't ready to call myself out on that fact. He leaned closer and kissed me on my forehead, and I then felt his semi hard-on grazing my leg. Giddy by this fact, I turned my head into my hair and actually giggled. Nobody made me giggle, and it was a little, nervy one too.

"Yeah, 'oh'," he whispered in my ear, and I heard the smile that went with that. "I'd love to take a photo of you in the nude."

I tried to resist blushing, but that turned into an absolute fail. "Are you blushing, Miss Swan?"

My eyebrows immediately creased. Did he just say what I thought he did? "Swan?" I repeated. "How do you know my last name?"

His eyes narrowed slightly, but he still had a straight face – no hesitation. "You told me."

"Did I?" I asked incredulously. That wasn't something I'd do, but maybe…maybe I did.

"Yes."

"Oh." I still had a niggling feeling in the pit of my stomach, but I trusted Edward…at least, I thought I did.

We didn't say anything for a few moments while we lay on his leather sofa, me secured in his arms while my forehead rested on his chin.

"I'm going away in two months," he said out of the blue.

I struck my head back, and it felt like my heart was on hold. "What?"

A frown played on his lips – that wasn't a good sign. "A friend and I have been planning it for months. We're moving to New York."

I held my breath. _New York. _He was following my dream, and this envious wrath was clogging up my system.

"That sounds…nice." I couldn't help but sound bitter.

He crooked an eyebrow. "You look like you've sucked on a lemon."

"That was the look I was going for. Glad you noticed."

Edward chuckled carelessly, oblivious to the pain he had just caused me. I was glad he was unaware…I would die inside if he knew how I really felt. "So, who is this good friend?" I asked, trying to carry on the conversation.

Edward was silent before finally answering. "Tanya." He was as blunt as possible.

"I see."

"What do you see?" he asked.

_I didn't 'see' anything_. What I knew was that he was moving away with another woman – I understood that part perfectly well.

"I'd kill to move to New York; I've wanted to go for so long. I can understand why you're moving." I just had to change the subject.

I could tell by his face that he wasn't expecting that reaction, and he didn't want it either, but he ran with the topic diversion. "Really? I didn't know that about you."

I smirked. "Of course you didn't. Why would I tell you?"

He ran his teeth over his bottom lip. It looked kind of hot. Ugh, he needed to stop distracting me. I lifted myself from the sofa so I was sitting upright, and then looked down shyly. "I wanted to be some kind of cool fashion photographer."

"You're young, you can still do it."

_If only you knew…_"I suppose." I felt his hand entwine with mine, and I stared at him and smiled. "I can't believe you're going."

He suddenly embraced his arms around my waist and pulled me towards him once again. "You could tell me where you lived, and then I could come back to visit."

I forced a laugh. "I might not be there when you come back…you never know," I lied.

I heard him sigh, and nothing was said after that. We lay there and I closed my eyes, letting him stroke my hair. I tried to let the calming sensation take me, but I couldn't. I felt worked up and couldn't stop fidgeting.

"What's the matter?" Edward asked, sensing my distress.

"I don't know..." I started, biting my lip. "I suppose I'm just a little shocked that you're leaving," I told him truthfully. That must have been the first honest thing I had ever said to Edward.

"I'll come back," he told me.

I nodded my head. "Yeah, I'm sure you will." I paused. "I think I just miss home and stuff. I kind of want to move on from here, y'know?"

"Why don't you visit your parents for a while?" he proposed.

I exhaled, long and hard. "I can't." _Wait, did I just say that out loud?_

"Why?" he softly asked.

I stared up, straight into his eyes. Why did he seem so honest all of the time?

I wanted to tell him something real, hoping that it could help my conscience, hoping that he could somehow help me.

I stared down at my hands. "I don't talk to my parents anymore. Well, 'parent.' My mom died when I was thirteen."

Edward remained silent. Shit, I made him feel uncomfortable. "Sorry for bringing up the awkwardness." I tried to laugh it off, even though it was hard. I hadn't spoken openly about her death in years.

"I'm really sorry to hear that." He fell silent again, before he said, "If you don't mind me asking, how did it happen?"

"Ovarian cancer," I answered bluntly. I thought that was the best tact to use. God, I didn't want to cry in front of him. Just speaking about it made me realize how raw I still was about what happened. It was such a long time ago, and I don't know why, but the fact that it still hurt more than ever made me feel...stupid.

"I know it's hard to deal with losing a family member that is so close, even though I haven't yet experienced it myself. Don't feel like you have to hold back around me, Bella." He might as well have said 'you can always talk to me,' just like all the teachers did at school.

Once again, I straightened up from the leather sofa. "I bet they tell you to use that line in medical school," I mumbled.

I felt his hand grasp my wrist. "Bella, I'm not trying to offend you. Sometimes, I feel like you purposely avoid everything personal about yourself. You don't know how frustrating it can be."

"Because I honestly don't know why you would care. You must hear about this shit everyday!" I could sense an argument that I didn't want, so I kept trying to smile, even though it felt fake as hell.

I got up off the sofa and made my way toward the door. I didn't want to stay to talk about my past; I just couldn't deal with it, and he couldn't understand. "I'll have to go soon."

I sensed him following me, and before I even touched the doorknob, I felt his strong arm wrap around my shoulders. He turned me around, and when I faced him, he pulled me into his hold. The softness of his shirt and the strength of his arms felt safe and comforting, and before I could even get to grips, I felt a tear trickle down my cheek.

I sniffed. "I'm sorry about this, Edward. I just...I just hate talking about it. It was so long ago, and everybody has moved on." _Except me._

I felt his hand again stroking my hair, right to the tips. "I'm sure that's not true. I swear to you, Bella, your dad would've been hurting just as much. We all deal with grief in our own ways."

"No, my dad was over her – it didn't take him long. By the time I turned fifteen he was already with this girl called Jane, who was half my mother's age." Just the mention of her name made me so fucking angry.

Edward's grip tightened around me. "I just couldn't understand why he needed somebody so soon. I just couldn't handle it-" I stopped myself, taking a step back and releasing myself from him. I felt like an idiot.

"Sorry, um...can I just get a glass of water, please?"

His eyes looked saddened, and that added fuel to my embarrassment. Edward picked up my hand again and betsowed a gentle kiss on my knuckles.

"Can you come back next week?" he asked. "I'm worried about you, Bella. If you'll let me, I want to take you to the hospital."

I snatched my hand back. "Why?"

"I'm just guessing, but I don't think you've had a scan for a while." His voice lowered with the last part, and I knew what he meant by 'scan.' They told me when my mother was diagnosed that it would be a good idea to have an ultrasound scan once every year, since we were certain that the cancer was genetic when we discovered that my cousin also had suffered from the same type.

"It doesn't matter that I haven't had a scan," I answered briskly. Again, Edward had made me feel even more humiliated. He didn't reply, but he gave me one of those looks. "Look, I don't understand why you want to help me anyway."

Edward folded his arms. "Look, Bella..." he started, sounding uncomfortable. _That was a first. _ "I'm not sure why I want to help. I just do. I think it would give you peace of mind."

"Look, I _really _don't know." I thought back to the day I met Edward. It was nearly a month ago, and God, how those weeks have dragged on. But what if somebody recognized me from that day and remembered me as the girl who ran out of the hospital?

Needless to say, the thought wasn't a pleasant one. "At least, come over next week," he urged, and then put on this puppy dog face. "Please?"

I half laughed. "Fine. I will. Can't you just let me get a glass of water already?"

He nodded his head and let me leave the room – finally. I made my way to his huge, perfect kitchen, which complimented his huge, perfect house. I couldn't help but resent him for his rich well-being. I looked through a couple of cabinets until I found the glass cupboard, and as I reached for a glass, I heard a door open.

As I peered around the cupboard door, ,a strong wave of anxiety washed over me.

Emmett's wide eyes stared at me; I wasn't sure whether he was angry or confused. Immediately, I started to pull down the hem of the shirt, as if it would help me to conceal some dignity.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, incredulously.

"Uh, I thought Edward would have told you something about..."

"Told me what?" he interrupted. Then, judging by his expression, ,it all started to click.

"Have you been seeing each other?" he questioned.

I bowed my head, feeling the burning embarrassment. What should I have said? Should I have told him that he bought me or something? If I told Emmett the truth, he would probably tell Sam.

"What's going on between you two?"

"Nothing." _Yeah right._

I didn't dare let go of Emmett's attention. His eyes were so strong, and there was something about him that seemed forceful. Now I knew why he was a hit man - he was downright scary.

"Emmett?" I heard Edward's familiar voice behind me.

Emmett looked passed my shoulder, and I watched as his face easily collapsed into a small, soft smile. But I didn't fall for it. I knew these types of guys too well.

"There's a car waiting outside, do you know it?" Emmett casually asked the room.

I knew my place. "Oh, yeah, that'll be for me." I stared up at Edward. He came across just like Emmett did a minute ago. He knew he was kept in the dark about something.

"Thanks for the shirt," I quickly said. "I'll just go and get ready..." my voice trailed off as I left the kitchen in silence. I darted up the stairs and grabbed my damp clothes off the radiators in the utility room. I had never changed so fast in my life.

As I re-entered the kitchen to say bye, I could tell there was something different. Emmett ignored me, not even bothering to look as I walked through. Edward didn't say anything, but his brow had sunk and I could tell he was irritated. When he saw me, he hastily led me through his tall hallway, stopping at the front door.

"Um, so yeah...thanks. Sorry, I didn't know I would be going so soon..."

"It's not like you have to go, Bella. You're eighteen; you're responsible for your own life."

I sighed. "Right."

"Is there something going on?"

I shook my head, trying to remain neutral. "Not that I'm aware of."

"You would tell me though, right?"

"Of course."

He smiled, and then planted a kiss on my forehead. His warm breath felt so surreal on my skin.

I wanted to stay in his house forever.

"Thank you," I said again.

"What are you thanking me for?"

I gave a small shrug. "I'm not sure…"

We said bye, and that was that. I left his house, and I didn't look back, too ashamed of what had just happened. I had to stop lying at some point, because now Emmett knew something was up. I prayed for the first time in my life that he wouldn't breathe a word to Sam.

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**A/N: Sorry for the long delay, but to make up for it, I'm updating on my birthday! Haha, I do have a life, honest. **

**I hope you're enjoying the story so far! I would love to know what you think will happen to Bella? **

**Thank you to my two beta's Twimarti and Kaydee1005. I'm sure by now they both know how much of a huge help they are to me.**

**Thanks for reading!  
KC  
**


	12. My Only Doll

**Disclaimer: SM owns all the characters that belong to Twilight.**

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**Chapter Twelve - My Only Doll**

You've been walking,

You've been hiding,

And you look half dead half the time.

Monitoring you,

Like machines do,

You still got it, I'm just keeping an eye.

**Imogen Heap**

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**Thank you to my two beta's Twimarti and Kaydee1005. I am so thankful to have you two beta my work!**

**

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**

When arrived back at the house, I wished that I'd never left Edward's.

I must have gotten used to the smell because having those few precious hours free from the house made me realize how wretched this place stunk. Chinese boxes were trashed on the fold-up table; the black bean sauce had long congealed, ,and the room reeked of prawn crackers and cigarettes – not that I minded the cigarette smell, but the prawn cracker scent gave the house a mildewed edge. As I waded through the shit-hole, I noticed the crumbs and cigarette ash sprinkled on the wooden floor; I could have sworn I saw a used condom lying on the arm of the leather chair, too.

When I reached the stairs, I was surprised to see Rosalie sitting on the edge of a step. Her skin looked aged and withdrawn, and her dim eyes were red rimmed. They almost seemed hollow.

"What's wrong?" I asked, feeling the maternal tightness forming in my chest.

She shook her head, her hair looking limp and greasy, barely moving at all. "It's nothing, really…really nothing," she stammered.

I frowned, knowing I should expect one of her episodes. "Let's get you cleaned up, honey." I gently started up the stairs, grabbing her arm to help her. She instantly snapped it back.

"I can walk myself," she said curtly. I flinched at her voice, coarse and irritated.

Without another second's hesitation, she gripped onto the stair banister and heaved herself up. I kept an eye on her just in case she stumbled, but she managed. We walked in silence toward our bedroom, and when we arrived into the room, I noticed that nothing had changed: an unmade bed, condom wrappers on the vanity table, dirty laundry that had been casted off around the room, and even the tacky, chequered tie was still knotted around the bed's headboard.

I did my best to ignore it; I averted my attention to the mirror and started shaking my fingertips through my semi-dried hair. It was something to do while Rosalie was on edge, and when Rosalie was on edge, I was too.

"So, what's been happening with you today?" I tried to ask her as casually as possible.

She placed herself gently onto the bed and stayed silent for a few seconds. I wouldn't push for a response – I knew better than that.

"I've done nothing today," she told me, sounding diffident. "I woke up, kept to myself…and I just thought about stuff, y'know?"

I nodded in response. Trying not to make a huge deal of her low mood, I started applying a sapphire blue across my eyelids. But I felt nervous for Rosalie's sake. I wondered if something big had happened today while I had gone.

"Oh right. So, uh, what did you think about?"

I glimpsed at her from the corner of my eye. She was transfixed on the old net curtain, watching dusk starting to plague the house.

"I look like shit," she announced, pure resentment dripping from her words.

My neck craned to see her fully. "What? Don't be stupid…you look fine." Even I noticed the strain in my voice.

Her attention finally landed on me, and she smiled weakly. "I have to stop, B. I'm gonna, y'know? I really am going to stop everything this time and do something right for once. I need a clean slate."

I fell silent as I racked my brain for something to say, but I was speechless. So, I searched around the vanity table, grasped my packet of smokes, and lit up.

I inhaled, feeling my tension ease. "You know what I think."

My eyes fell back to the vanity table, and I continued to smoke. Rosalie didn't do or say anything more, until she burst into tears. They were soft muffles, but the distressing sound was heartbreaking.

I suddenly dropped my cigarette in a half empty glass of water and lurched toward her on the bed. She wrapped her arms around my shoulders and leaned her head into the crook of my neck – and I froze. Her soft whimpering was stifled in my shirt, and I wanted to cry myself.

"I just feel ugly and I know…I know that I've taken it too far." She raised her head from my neck and bared the inside of her arms. My heart sunk so low as I was made to face her hideous track marks covering her arms. Her arms were clouded with purple bruises, and there were two lines nearly crossing over each other made of holes in her flesh that had scabbed over. "Jared told me that if I wanted to keep using, I would have to find a different place on my body."

Again, I didn't know what I could have said that would have been remotely comforting. Instead, I stared at her, caught up with concern, while her watery eyes flickered around the room rapidly as if the right advice would have been laid out for her on the carpet.

"I don't…I don't know what to do," she choked. I quickly held her hand. What I wanted to do was tell her to stop using, that I knew she could if she wanted to, that I had so much faith in her. Those words seemed the hardest to pronounce at that moment.

"I'm such a mess…" she said. "I'm such a fucking mess."

"Rosalie, it'll be okay." I didn't know if it would be okay or not, but I needed to say something.

"Are you sure, Bells?" she asked.

"I swear."

She bowed her head and went quiet. All I could hear was her uneven breathing; she sounded like a child. In a weird way, it was nice to be so close again. Lately, she consumed smack as much as she consumed food. It had made her so different…she wasn't taking it anymore for a fun escape. She was taking the drug as a daily necessity – and that had changed her. She had lost her sisterly quality of the old days; she had lost her spark…and now, she was just plain old lost.

The silence seemed to wrap around us, but it was comforting, like your duvet when you was a kid, always soft and safe. We had retreated to lying on the bed, and for the past twenty minutes we rested, not a word was breathed. We listened to the hum of music and the conversations being held in the other rooms.

"You know if God's looking down on me, do you think he'd be pissed?" Rosalie softly asked.

I rolled my eyes. "If there was a God, he'd probably be more pissed with all the wars going on, traffic wardens and Mel Gibson."

"I've missed you, B."

I grinned. "I've missed your bullshit."

"You never did tell me how it went with that doctor. I heard from Sam that it was Emmett's brother?" She was right. I never did fully tell her about what happened with Edward.

I involuntary blushed, mulling over the earlier events of today. "Yeah, he is related to Emmett…" I stopped myself before I said something I shouldn't. I stared back at her, catching my reflection in her eyes.

"Was it that bad?" her voice turned lower, more sinister.

"No, no…_no._ It was…fine, really," I answered quietly.

I felt her grip tighten around my arm, but she was still in a fragile state so it didn't pressure me too much. "Bella, I don't like the sound of that."

"Sound of what? Nothing's happened…"

"Bullshit," she stated. "Just, don't go there."

How could she tell? "Look, I know what I'm doing. Besides, Edward's really ni—"

"Seriously, Bella? You're calling him by his first name?" she questioned, her eyes had widened. "You're already overstepping the mark."

"It's not going to be like that," I told her. "I know what I'm doing, Rose, I reall—"

"Yeah, and Victoria thought she knew what she was doing, too."

God, she was right, and I hated thinking that. I had been building my hopes up too much. I really thought that Edward could take me away from this – but if Sam ever found out...

"He made Victoria sleep outside for two weeks. You should be thankful Quil isn't here, or you'd be made to fuck him in front of everybody, too."

I winced remembering Quil. He was always high off coke and lived on the limits. I remembered the night when Victoria was found out about her secret affair with one of the clients. Everyone remembers. Even though there were a few blind spots because of the drugs I was taking at the time, I couldn't forget that day. He screwed her outside in front of _everybody _– well, all of Sam's friends. They all laughed it up while she was in tears. Lauren made us stay upstairs. To be honest, I didn't know what exactly was going on at the time, and I probably would have been scared if I wasn't high off smack. The thing that stuck in my mind was the running commentary from Jared, who was in a raucous mood that night. He never said her name, always 'she' or 'her,' and he didn't cut back on the vulgar remarks of the way she looked out there outside in the cold.

After that incident, Quil made me nervous. He always came across as your typical asshole, but I never dreamed he would have gone that far. I guessed Sam only made one exception to the freebee rule when it came to his friends. Come to think of it, because I never wanted to be around Quil, that was when I started to never be more than five steps from Sam. Shortly after the Victoria incident, Sam and I became much closer. If it was up to me, I would have been left alone, but that was never an option. At that time, Sam was my only option.

Thankfully, Quil was locked up three months ago for being caught dealing.

"You're right…" I said in defeat.

"I love you, B. I'd hate to see that happening to you, too."

"I know, I know, but what if?"

Rosalie shook her head in frustration and rubbed her hand over her face. "What if he'll come and rescue you?" she scoffed. "I'm _sure_ he's going to be carried around in a pumpkin carriage and search every brothel in Forks to find _you_ - his future Princess!"

Suddenly, a knock played on the door. My guts immediately felt sick and twisted as I span my attention around.

"Yes?" I snapped louder than I had intended.

The door feebly opened and Jessica was there in the doorway, nervously rubbing her hands together.

"There on that shelf, sweetie," Rosalie's voice chimed over my shoulder.

She kept her stare planted on the ground and made sure her face was tucked behind her curtains of mousy brown hair. I waited until she had grabbed a couple of condoms and left.

"It's her first night tonight," Rosalie eventually told me when we heard her steps disappear into her room.

"Oh." God, that thought made me ill.

"Yeah, _oh._"

I leaped off the bed and started fumbling with one of my camisoles, preparing myself for my night ahead.

"I hope she'll be okay."

"I thought you knew about it?"

"No, why? When did you find out?"

"About a week ago."

Shit, that must have been the reason why I had found her crying.

"No…I didn't. I think I've just been a bit out of the loop…" No, I just didn't want to be _in_ the loop anymore. It felt too depressing, especially now that I was scot free from drugs.

"Did you know that Emmett followed James earlier today?"

"What?"

"Yeah, that's what Paul told me. Emmett had followed James in the car earlier today, but lost him. Paul said that Sam told him it could have been a scene from one of those Grand Theft Auto games."

I felt a blow of annoyance because Rosalie was sounding so cavalier. Every time James' name was mentioned I suffered from a burn of anxiety, as if I was about to sky dive off a plane or make an acting debut on stage – but I didn't get the high adrenaline rush. The feeling stayed there, stubborn, at the bottom of my throat.

"I think they'll get him in a week, tops."

I nodded my head. "Mmm, I'm sure they will." I needed to move off the subject. "Anyway, so what _are_ you doing tonight…you're not taking anymore…_y'know_."

"No more." Her voice was adamant.

I wished I could have believed her. I carried on getting ready for the night's work ahead while Rosalie lay on the duvet. I needed to stop thinking about James and Sam, but I knew that wasn't going to happen.

Before I left the bedroom to freshen up in the bathroom, I heard Rosalie grumble and then I thought she said, "Stop."

I crooked an eyebrow. "What's the matter?"

"I've only just remembered, but you know Sam was acting really weird today while you were gone. He kept talking about you, saying things like you weren't coming back."

"What do you mean?"

"I think he was just trying to piss me off, B."

"He's such a fucking asshole."

"I know. That was another thing that really upset me."

"Well, I'm here, so don't fret." I sighed and carried on toward the bathroom.

I wished that Sam was right, and that I never did come back.

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**Thank you to everyone who has reviewed this story! It makes me so happy to hear your thoughts!**

**If anyone has any questions, please PM me, I'm always willing to answer them!**

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**Thank you, **

**KC  
**


	13. The Quiet

**Disclaimer: SM owns Twilight and therefore all the characters that I have used in this story. No copyright infringement intended. **

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Chapter 13 - The Quiet

I'm the fury in your head,

I'm the fury in your bed,

I'm the ghost at the back of your head. **_- The Foals._**

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My legs were barely touching the fat around the stranger's body, and as always, my eyes were clinched. I tried my hardest to think about Edward, how he teased me and the things he would whisper in my ear.

It didn't work. I knew what Edward's touch was like - intense… passionate… and caring. The thought usually made me shiver, but that wasn't the case when I had a sleaze panting over my chest.

I risked a peek but immediately felt sick. I wanted him to stop, but that wasn't going to happen anytime soon. His piggy eyes were staring at my breasts as if I didn't have a head with any human features. His round face was painted with sickening lust, and with every sharp movement he made, his cheeks happily bounced along with the rhythm.

I stared at the familiar damp patches on wall. It would all be over soon.

I could hear Sam's precious music being played from downstairs, masking the sounds of Jessica's 'first time.' My heart ached at the thought of what she was going through, but she was with Mr. Yorkie, so she could've had worse. I was surprised that he wanted the virgin, but I shouldn't have been that shocked; men could be dogs.

Finally, the ordeal was over. I quickly wrapped Rosalie's night robe over my bare body; it felt comforting to be covered. Then, the customer and I went downstairs to sort out the money. No arguments or disagreements, it was quickly done and dusted.

I lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply, feeling the usual repulsion that arrived after a client. Sam said bye in his own booming, bastardizing way to the client, and the stranger inclined his head toward me before leaving. Did I say bye back? _He could go fuck himself. _

"Don't be cold to the customers," Sam chided after the client left.

I didn't say anything back. It felt maddening how quiet I was now. I didn't even dare to spit out a snarky comment. Sam grinned and collected that damned chest that lived underneath the table.

"What do you fancy, Iz?"

I didn't give him a satisfactory scowl. "I'm fine," I said gently.

"No you're not, Iz, honey, baby…" That smile he used to wear before we went to bed curled up his face hideously. He lounged back in his chair and stared at me. He was so relaxed, so carefree. I wondered what he was on.

"I'm good with my smokes." With that, I took another drag, inhaling so hard that I could feel the smoke burn within my chest.

"You've changed," Sam stated.

_Good, _I thought.

I didn't say anything, but I knew Sam would continue the conversation; it would be pretty one-sided.

"Come over here, baby…" he patted his thigh, "…I've missed that ass sitting on me." His voice made me want to hurl. I couldn't help but squint my eyes like I was drinking lemon juice.

"Come here, Iz."

"When's my next customer?" I suddenly asked. My voice was as flat as the three-week-old lemonade stored in the refrigerator.

"Why do you care?" There was a definite slur to his voice.

"Look, Sam…can we just…not."

I heard the jostle of plastic to wood coming from the adored chest of surprises. The burning cherry of my cigarette was coming to a near death, and I wondered if I should carry on smoking through the filter just because it gave me something to focus on.

"Come here, baby." The lump in my throat was heavy, and I knew exactly what Sam wanted. I stubbed my cigarette in a nearby glass of...something, and while doing so, I shook my head.

"No?" his voice echoed. Sam moved off his chair and padded along the wooden floor. The sounds accelerated through me, pumping the worst kind of adrenaline into my heart.

He stood right next to me, and I smelled the weed and the bourbon. There were no doubts in my mind that he had taken something else.

"You're going to take them, Iz," he told me matter-of-factly.

I peered down at his hands; there were two tiny pills cradled in his palms. They looked so innocent, but that was what they wanted you to think. They were just a bit of fun, gave you highs and lows.

_W__anna take your chances, Iz?_

"No."

I heard his husky dog laugh and felt it cough onto my face.

Mid-laugh, his hand flew to my cheeks, gripping my poor skin. I flinched as his touch gouged into my cheekbones.

"Just take it," he hissed through his teeth.

Everything turned aggressive quickly. I struggled while his whole body caved into me. My back slammed against the table and the fear stiffened in my chest. I yelped through my jaw, making this coarse, muffled noise. My hands scratched along his arms, trying to be freed. The attempts were fruitless; my puny arms couldn't defeat his strength.

I felt the stabbing of a pill on my lips. I kept my mouth tight.

"Don't be a frigid bitch!" he shouted.

"No!" I cried through my teeth, grasping onto whatever I could.

I was pathetic. I couldn't help but think I deserved this. So many chances I'd had to leave, only to waste them on doubt. My eyes were branded on his, pleading for him to leave me alone. His pupils were huge, burning black holes – soulless.

"You think you're fucking amazing because you have your moral high ground," he spat in my face.

His grip then eased, and when his fingers dropped from their position, I felt the sudden bruising pain that ached in my cheeks.

He then smiled. I'd never seen him look so warped and twisted. His fingers brushed over my hair. "It's okay. You'll come back to me, Iz. You'll come back."

Those words made me shudder and gave me more reason to want to leave. I was frightened, so fucking frightened. I anticipated that he would blow up in my face again, thunderous and disturbing like a sudden car crash on quiet valley road.

If I didn't go soon, I would give in to him and his drugs again. He would give me reason to stay.

Right at that moment, the door behind me swung open and knocked onto the wall.

"Is this a bad time?" I heard Mr. Yorkie's mild voice say.

Sam's smile reached his eyes. "Of course not!" he bellowed. "Come right on in."

I was astounded at how Sam could transfer back to that mellow, manipulative state, but I knew his malicious edge; all of us around here knew.

"Was she good, bro?" Sam asked, egging Yorkie on.

"Tight," Mr. Yorkie commented. I turned up my top lip in disgust - of course she would be fucking tight, moron. "I could have done without the crying though," he said, quieter.

That sparked Sam, and I swore there was a sinister flash in his eyes. "You get that," Sam answered in a flatter voice.

I couldn't stand to be in the same room with the two of them anymore. My insides felt tangled up, and I had so many thoughts going through my mind. I got up, gripping my robe, and headed out of the room. Sam kept up the idle chatter and completely ignored me.

As I reached the landing of the upstairs, I was drawn to Jessica's room. I wasn't sure what I would say, but I kept getting flashbacks of my own first time. The self disgust would become a part of her. She would learn to accept that hating herself would become a personality trait, although if she continued the smack she would have no personality at all.

I took a few tentative steps into the room. An unmade bed greeted me, along with a make-up stained carpet. It smelled of sex. I always hated the way the rooms reeked after a client. They left this retched, sweaty scent.

"Jessica?"

I saw her dirty blonde hair poke up from the other side of the bed. Her eyes were so wide and vulnerable, like a deer in headlights. When she noticed it was me, she gently rotated her head back around.

"I'm sorry," I started, although I wasn't sure how to finish. What do I say next? I'm sorry you got fucked? I'm sorry you chose to stay here?

I made my way to the other side of the bed anyway. When I saw the state she was in, I felt my stomach do a double take. She was wearing a long t-shirt with a lily printed on the front. Her hair was a mess – knotted and ruffled. Jessica's face was pale, and I noticed the tear lines that had cut through the mounds of make-up. But the worst part of her appearance was the blood. The crimson color was crusted along her left thigh, and there was a small blotched circle on her t-shirt.

I stood there for a few seconds, not knowing what to do.

"It hurt more than I thought." Her voice was a shock to the system. She sounded clearer than all the other times I tried to speak to her, but at the same time, it was still timid and broken.

I crouched next to her. Her bright eyes watching my every movement.

"Honey, if it makes you feel better, it's not like this every time you do it."

I mentally kicked myself. I sounded as if I was encouraging the sex. I wanted to comfort her – not make her even more scared.

We sat there for a few moments, just listening to the dull drumming of Sam's music. I then dropped my hand over her dainty one and gently touched her skin. She didn't flinch, and we didn't look each other.

"You know what the worst thing is?" Jessica started. "This was a t-shirt from home. My gran got it me for my thirteenth birthday."

I gazed at my pallid legs and didn't say anything back. I didn't think Jessica really expected me to. She was just a young girl who was naïve and had been easily brainwashed, just like the rest of us. I couldn't understand why a person would buy a girl… or a boy for that matter, and do…_this._

I sat there for a while, sticking out the silence. I hoped that Jessica would find her escape soon.

* * *

It had turned half past two in the morning. I was freshening up in the bathroom, getting ready for my next client. I didn't want to wait in the bedroom; I hadn't done that since James.

After I had left Jessica, I stayed with Rosalie. She had kept true to her word and didn't have another taste of a drug in her system. Her comedown hadn't reached her yet, although she was still in a morose state. It was a lot more bearable than I had imagined, but knew it was only a matter of hours before the withdrawals would creep up and take her.

I balled up my fists and took a deep breath, feeling anxious for my next client. This was now routine. I took a final look at myself: the blue eye-shadow caused my skin to seem ghost-like, and the magenta lipstick made me look cheap.

I felt jittery, but I knew the nerves would dissipate soon enough. Cautiously, I walked down the hallway. Lauren's moans quaked through the house, and the noises of her panting didn't help me calm down.

It wasn't long until I reached our bedroom door, and I clasped my hand around the metal handle and slowly opened it.

I stared down at the floor and took a few tentative steps into our room.

Then, I looked up.

And I wished I hadn't.

I gasped. The beating of my pulse was loud in my ears, and my mouth held onto to that horrid breath that I inhaled from the stuffy atmosphere.

He was sitting there, in all of his glory…except that it wasn't glorious. It felt like the end.

Edward.

* * *

**Cliffie, I know. You'll have to wait until the new year to see what has happened!**

**So, before I leave you, I would just like to say a massive thank you to my beta's, Kaydee1005 and Twimarti. It has been a pleasure working with these ladies. Also, I'd like to say thank you to my readers. I know this story hasn't been popular, but it has taught me a lot. To the few who have enjoyed it, your reviews make everything seem worthwhile. Thank you. **

**I hope everyone will have an amazing christmas and a drunken new year!**

**Thanks, **

**KC  
**


	14. The Storm

**Disclaimer: All characters belong to SM. No copyright infringement intended. **

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**Chapter 14 - The Storm**

Here's the day you hoped would never come  
Don't feed me violence, just run with me  
Through rows of speeding cars **- Imogen Heap**

**

* * *

**

That surreal feeling overtook my head as if I was walking in a dream.

Edward was sitting on that wretched, his eyes vacant, and he looked out of place. He shouldn't have been there.

"What are you doing?" I asked. I couldn't help _but _sound defensive.

He didn't look at me. I wondered if I was loud enough…or was I camouflaging into the walls?

I might as well have been.

"I don't know," he finally answered. His voice sounded smooth – the exact opposite to the rough, fraught tone of mine. "I'm here for answers."

I nodded my head, frowning. There was a wretched pull inside of me, and a part of me wanted to remain quiet while the other part wanted to lash out. He shouldn't have been here...what gave him the right?

"It was never meant to be like this."

"It is what it is," he said grimly.

I flinched at his words. "I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for, Bella? The fact that you've humiliated me?" I froze, not knowing what to say back. "God...if this ever got out..."

The guilt that I ignored for so long started gushing through me like a bottle neck that had been broken, letting all its contents fall carelessly. I stared at my hands and played with my fingers nervously.

"I didn't think about it like that."

"Of course you didn't." I could tell he was becoming more aggravated. "I knew there was something wrong about you. But fuck, Bella, I thought you might have had a reputation. Maybe you you had a few boyfriends, since men always picked you up, giving you rides everywhere. But this...this is..._disgusting."_

"I'm sorry I repulse you."

"You don't -" he stopped himself. "It's what you do, Bella. You've lied to me all this time, and I don't think you understand how you could put my whole career in jeopardy...my reputation..."

I risked a glance at him. His head was shaking furiously, and his fingers were making circular motions on his temples.

"Shit, I don't know what I was thinking. I guess the first thing I should have thought about was your career," I snapped. I shouldn't have done that, but I couldn't help it. It was that or…breaking down into tears. I didn't want to do that, either.

He sprung from the bed. Even when he was angry he was handsome, but at that time, I didn't want to look at him. I wanted a minute to myself to think about what I was going to say. Was this the moment I persuaded him to help me out of here?

"Why did you lie to me?"

"Oh, because you were going to stick around when you found out what I did?" I bit back.

He didn't say anything, and my breath was caught in my throat. That horrid lump that I despised so much was coming back for me.

"It's not that easy. I wasn't going to say 'Hi, I'm Bella. I'm 18, and I'm currently a hooker!" I closed my eyes and tried to calm down. "It's not something I'm proud of."

I eagerly waited for his response. Then, I heard his footsteps closing in on me. I opened my eyes – he was so near.

"I don't care that it wasn't easy. I had a right to know!"

Then, my heart plummeted. He didn't care. _I knew it. _

"I knew you didn't care..."

"Why are you trying to guilt trip me?"

"I'm not fucking guilt tripping you!" The anger between us was building up.

"I fucking cared. I wouldn't be here if I didn't...but you're the one who didn't give a rat's ass about what you were doing!" he shouted.

My eyes flickered to the door nervously. "Keep your voice down."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot you were supposed to be fucking me." Edward's eyes creased painfully, and he rested his fingers on the bridge of his nose. "You're a hooker. A fucking hooker."

"Why are you acting so childish?"

He gripped onto my shoulders. "_Why am I acting childish?_ I'm about to fucking lose it, Bella! I don't even know who you are or what to do right now," he seethed. My mind averted to Sam earlier. I cringed.

"Stop it. You're scaring me," I quietly answered.

We both fell silent, and I stared straight into his deep, green eyes. He had never been this dark before. I tried to stare him out – get through to him. I knew my expression was filled with silent pleas.

"You know what I don't get? Why people always say that they're more upset about the distrust than what actually happened," I said, my voice shaking. "It's such _bullshit_. If I told you in the car or at your house when you were asking questions—you would still be upset. You're not angry because I'm doing something illegal, you're angry because I'm doing something that you won't ever understand. I bet you've always had a great life. I bet your Dad even gave you that job." I paused, taking a deep, shaky breath. "So, don't you dare belittle me because Daddy didn't give me a leg up in the career ladder."

He didn't say anything to that comment, and I desperately wanted to know his answer. Then, his eyes disconnected with mine, and he slowly lowered his hand into his back pocket.

"How much do I owe you?"

_Did he just say what I thought he did?_

I parted my lips to say something, but the tears wanted to come out more than the words. He tore his wallet from his trouser pocket, and my eyes were locked on his hands, shuffling through crisp, green notes.

"What are you doing?" I sputtered.

"Don't act stupid. Since I'm the one who was born into money, it's the least I can do. Consider it a 'career leg up.'"

I grabbed his fist. "Stop it."

"This is what I owe you. You know how it all works."

"_Please…_Edward…this doesn't change who I am…it doesn't change anything."

He shook his head and tried to laugh it off. Laugh _me _off. Those fantasies starring him that I'd had were now...alien. I watched as he continued to fish out fifties. "How much is it?"

I blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay. "I – I don't know…" _Was this really happening?_ "…Sam sorts out the finances."

He held out the wad of cash in front of my face. "Take it."

"I don't take the money!"

"You take this, and I'll pay your boyfriend when I see him downstairs."

"He's not my boyfriend, Edward!"

"I'd prefer it if you called me Doctor Cullen." _Was he being serious?_

He looked serious. He carried that same frightful expression in his face – the one Emmett had – and the same tick in his jaw. His eyebrows were shaping his face into a scowl…I felt timid in comparison.

"Did Emmett tell you about me?" I asked nervously. "He won't tell Sam about…" I couldn't muster the word 'us.'

Edward remained silent. I was barely holding it together.

"You do know me…and I swear I will tell you everything else." It sounded like a last minute attempt to salvage something. It sounded too desperate.

He ignored what I said and still held out my 'payment.' He looked as distant as the day I met him. "Take it," he told me adamantly. I did what I was told; he wasn't going to back down. He sighed. "I don't want you to come and see me again, considering the nature of a relationship and…_this_. I think this will benefit the both of us. It's safe to say that whatever happened is over." It was so final.

He walked to the door. He might as well have been a stranger that had just fucked me, because I felt just as used.

He paused before he reached the door and shook his head. "Bella…I'm fucking engaged. This shouldn't have happened, anyway."

And then he left.

All the anger boiled up. It reached my eyes and burdened my fists.

"FUCK YOU!" I screamed. "Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!"

I was shaking. I was actually trembling with anger. _How could I have done this to myself? _

I ran to the bed, and stuffed my face into the polyester pillow, feeling the hard end of a duck feather scratch over my skin. I wrapped my hand over one of Joe-Joe's arms and squeezed him.

And then I screamed.

I screamed out the tears.

The grief.

The guilt.

I bet I was breaking one of the house rules. Women should be quiet; they should be submissive and do what they're told. If I did that, then I wouldn't have built myself up for this…for disappointment.

I was angry to the extent that the feeling was riddled in my head. Was I going mad?

I pounded my fists into the mattress. I went into a rampage…or a fit, scratching my cheeks and pulling my hair until I felt the roots pinch. I wanted to feel the physical pain of what I had done. I thought that I could handle the physical pain better.

Then, I fell silent for a while and realized the truth.

Edward had left me.

* * *

**A/N: Dramatic, I know. Sorry it took forever to post this, I was in two minds about the chapter, but then decided to go ahead with it. I'd love to know what you think; I'm ready to hear the good, the bad and the ugly.**

**Thank you for taking your time to read my story. It's much appreciated. I write fanfic to learn the craft.  
**

**KC  
**


	15. Me and The Minibar

**Disclaimer: SM owns Twilight, and therefore all the characters. No copyright infringement intended.**

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen - Me and The Minibar**

I'm a scary gargoyle on a tower  
That you made with plastic power  
Your rhinestone eyes are like factories far away. - **Gorillaz**

* * *

Life seeped back into the realms of normalcy. Whatever normal was, anyway. It had been two weeks, and no, I hadn't gone back to Edward's house. I wouldn't see him again, and that was for certain.

My heart always sunk when I thought of that. I don't know why, since I didn't have a clear plan about how I would get Edward to help me out. _He was engaged for God's sake._ I decided that I would just have to accept everything that had happened and to, well, move on. I'd already made a massive fool out of myself.

I woke up deep into the day, since the nights consisted of working and just lying on the bed, waiting. I found myself constantly watching my bedroom door; it was the only thing I did until I drifted off. I always panicked if James would come for me when I slept, and sometimes I set myself in a state where I was ready for him to take me.

I smoked cigarette after cigarette – there was no point in cutting down anymore. I drank a lot and I ate a little. I looked after Rosalie. She was regaining her strength again, nearly becoming her old self, and she had overcome the majority of the detox. Last week was the worst; she had been sick seven to eight times a day, and a couple of times I had to change the bed sheets because of her accidents. Of course, at night she still had to work even though she wasn't well. As much as I didn't want to, I had to fuel her with alcohol beforehand.

It was a Monday afternoon. I was dressed for work and had a glass of whisky rested on my nightstand to keep me mellow. I heard two sharp knocks hit the door, causing my nerves to jump out of my skin. I took a deep breath before answering, "Yes?"

The door swung open, revealing Lauren. "Sam wants you to know that you haven't got got any clients tonight," she told me. You could tell she was forced to be the messenger.

"Right." That was odd…no clients? _Why?_

I lit up a cigarette that was poking from a carton on the vanity table.

One of Lauren's thin eyebrows rose a millimeter, as she stared me up and down. "Not that I give a shit, but why are you a morbid bitch all of a sudden?"

"No reason," I responded, inhaling the smoke.

She made a low "Hmpff" noise and kept examining me. It was fucking irritating to say the least.

"You know, you might think you're better than the rest of us, Hon', but let me tell you now before you go back on your high horse and start being a mouthy bitch again. You're just the same as me, or Rose, or even Sam for that matter. Actually, no, scrap Sam – he earns more money than you. So, you might give people the silent treatment now and think that it's annoying us because it's your silence against the common people - or whatever. But you're finally doing us a fucking favor...and quite frankly, I couldn't give a shit about what client has been fucking you the wrong way."

I laughed; it was a bitter sound, but I actually thought that Lauren was the funniest _thing_ I've met in my life.

"I know you don't give a shit, Lauren." Giving her the time of day hardly seemed worth it.

She turned hot on her heels and totted off into her bedroom in one of her skimpy numbers. I smirked wider when I heard her mutter something under her breath.

Then, I stubbed my cig out and downed the rest of the whisky, cringing at the burn. As I walked out of the bedroom, I passed a half done up Rosalie walking back in - in a weird way, I was glad that she felt better from puking up her guts. I also passed a timid Jessica, who was slouched in her bedroom's doorframe.

As I entered the main room, I saw Sam smoking a joint on the leather couch. Nobody else was there. That was becoming a common occurrence. People were getting aggravated with Sam's obsessive behaviour about James. Paul, Jared, Billy, and Collin were becoming quite the rarity. Not that I was complaining.

"Iz," he acknowledged. I didn't even feel angry towards him anymore; he could call me what he liked – I was over it. I was over a lot of things now.

"Not that I'm upset, but where are the customers tonight?" I slurred.

"We're closed." A smile stretched across his face as he took another drag. "I'm glad to see we're on speaking terms again." _We spoke yesterday, but I doubt you remembered._

"Sure." I padded toward the fold up table and wrapped my hand around a bottle of something. Chugging it back, I found that it was Sambuca. I closed my eyes and let the sweet aniseed taste roll over my tongue and down my throat. When I reopened them, I had an audience in Sam.

"Baby, come and sit here?" he asked, patting on the carpet in front of his feet.

I chuckled to myself. "What? And let you molest me?"

"I won't molest you….much. C'mon." He then winked at me. It was the same wink he had used when he asked me to go home with him, when he told me he would look after me. I thought I had met a saint.

I did as he asked and sat right in front of him. _It's better to keep him sweet, anyway. _ "I like it when you're like this, Iz. You're so easy to be around."

"So you like it when I'm drunk?"

His husky laugh erupted. "I guess I do." Immediately, I felt his rough fingers tickle the tops of my naked shoulders. It felt nice.

"You've been down, baby," he stated. I closed my eyes. _Was it that obvious?_

"It's nothing," I dismissed.

"I know you're pissed with me because of the whole Jessica situation. But she had nowhere to go." That was only a small part of why I was down.

"She's too young, Sam." I then slugged another shot from the Sambuca bottle.

"She was in the same position as you were, she had nowhere to go. Iz, you have to know she didn't say no. I told her who I was and what I did."

I blinked. "You did?"

His hands entwined into my hair, and I felt him stroke down to the ends of my curls.

_That's what Edward did._

"You need a pick-me-up, baby?" his voice whispered gently in my ear. I turned to look up at his face; I saw no sneers or repellent expressions. It was just Sam, deadly serious, but actually sounding as if he cared.

_Did he care?_

I knew that this was the moment where I'd cave in.

"I'm fine right here." I shook the bottle in my hand like it was my lifeline.

He blinked his brown eyes, and a hint of a smile was on his lips. Not horrible…but nice. Maybe even sweet. Oh, what do I know? I was feeling the alcohol rocking in my head.

"That's a pick-me-down," Sam said. He then lifted one of his thick fingers and rested it on the cap of my bottle.

I supported my head on the heel of my hand. I bet I looked like a child, being cross legged on the floor. I felt like one.

I could feel Sam move behind me, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw his hand murder his joint in the ashtray. My ears prickled when I heard that sound of rattling wood, and I knew he was tampering around with the chest.

_Why wasn't I saying anything?_ I knew there was this voice in the corner of my mind shouting at me to get up and go. It was so easy, so simple.

But staying there was easier. I allowed my mind to drift with the booze, and I allowed myself to turn to Jello. I could have stayed there to rot, and that would've been fine with me.

"You were always my fave, Iz," Sam's coarse voice told me. "You're all my rockstars, but you, babe…you really are the best." I turned to look at him, curious. He grabbed a pouch of something out of the chest. I quirked an eyebrow and tried to guess what it was. I was sure it was a purse of H.

"Sam…I can't do that," I protested weakly. "Not with Rosalie."

He paused for a second, his smile still gentle and warm. Then, he gazed back at me, and to my surprise, he seemed understanding. "I know, Iz." He continued to measure out the powder. "It's coke, by the way. I'm taking a line, you in?"

_Oh_. It was coke. Not that it made a huge difference, but I was good with coke…well, I was fine the last time I had it. It made me _feel_ good. I didn't say a word, but Sam continued making neat lines on the table with an old credit card that belonged to someone called Mr. B. W. Banner.

I should have said no, but I didn't say anything at all. When it was ready to serve, I was full steam ahead. I just didn't care anymore. Besides, I didn't have to take it every moment of everyday. I knew my limits.

I lowered my head and inhaled. The powder melted in my nose, and I shut my eyes, waiting for the effect.

I then felt Sam's hands start rubbing my shoulders. Man, everything felt so fucking good.

"Do you remember when we used to fuck all the time?"

I smirked. "No."

"_Sure you don't._" I knew he was grinning. "…_You know I do_," his voice hummed in my ear. "I remembered that first night, when you were laying on my bed. You were my little Bambi, looking so innocent when you were spread eagle." I remained quiet as he massaged his fingers into my skin. "But, you were so dirty, weren't you? _Fucking dirty bitch_."

When he said those words, he dropped his hands over my breasts. I sucked in a breath. I should have told him to stop. His large hands were rough as they squeezed and played with me. I now wished that I wasn't wearing what I was, as I was supposed to be working. I only had on my black slip – no underwear.

"If only you knew how hard you made me cum." He started to scrunch up my slip, and I felt the polyester slowing rising up my thighs. He leaned toward my ear and whispered softly, "You're not wearing anything underneath, are you?"

"Sam, you're too high to think straight," I protested, but it was half-hearted. I knew _I_ was too high to think straight.

Suddenly, I felt his hands push me onto all fours. "I can think straight, baby. I know what I want."

He pealed the one garment I was wearing up my body, not wanting me to have say in the matter. It was easy. I was easy. The slip crumpled together just on top of my breasts, so I lay bare before him. I felt the chill of the house roll over my stripped body, and I felt the heat of his stare on my exposed skin.

"There are so many ways I want to fuck you, Iz. You've missed me, haven't you?" I looked back at him. Sam already had his boxers down; his dick unveiled and hard at the ready. He gripped himself and started to jerk off, eager to be satisfied. I felt his pre-cum splash over my ass.

"You've missed this." I watched him playing with himself vigorously. His hair was in a disarrayed state like usual, and his brown, beady eyes were assertive and knew what they wanted.

"You fucking want this." This time, he directed himself into me ruggedly. I gasped at the sudden feeling and heard him laugh under his breath. He started to pound into me, hard and deep.

"This time, I'll fuck you good. You won't give me any fucking attitude again, will you, Iz?"

"Shut up…" I say under my breath. I felt broken inside, and I kept reacting to his movements. His dick pounded me, faster, but the novelty of it all started to dissipate. After a while, it felt like another client.

It was different with Edward. Not that we ever got that far, but being with him…there was something right.

I scolded myself every time I thought of that name.

I wanted to heave when I felt Sam's wet kisses over the back of my spine. They were too enthusiastic and sloppy. Did he really think it would give me some kind of excitement?

His arm brushed up my chest and glided through the midst of my breasts to land on my collarbone. He lifted me up easily and brought my body to move with his chest. I felt the heat of his body through the thin t-shirt he was wearing, and now I could hear his heavy panting in my ear.

All I could think about was Edward, as if I was cheating on him.

I swore I could see his green eyes, staring at me like they were living on the walls. They watched and narrowed, and the stare was petrifying. He made me crumble into nothing but dirt, and the anxiety exploded in my chest. I felt the sweat run down me, as Sam grunted in my ear, hoarsely.

Then, all came to a stop, but Sam didn't cum. I collapsed on the floor, ass in the air, no dignity intact. I rolled over the on the on wood, feeling rough goose pimples run along my skin.

I pulled myself up and glanced at Sam, who was slumped on the end of the couch, cock still out. He laughed from the stomach, and I didn't know why.

Then, it clicked.

The drugs had finally caught up with him – and his sexual appetite. The coke had definitely made sure it had put a stop to all excitement.

For some reason, I couldn't stop laughing my ass off. I was laughing more than I had in weeks, and both of us sat there in fits. I slumped back onto the hard floor, but it may as well have been a newly bought mattress with silk stretched over it.

As I stared at the ceiling, I stopped laughing. Those blazing green eyes pierced into me, nailing me to the floor. Then, the paranoia crept upon me like the devil.

I shut my eyes tightly, and before I knew it, I had liquefied into the ground. I didn't get up until the next day, somehow in my bed. When the light poured through my window, and I remembered what I had done, I cried.

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**If you've got this far - thank you for giving my story a chance. Sorry for the long time inbetween updates, I swear I'll get on top of it all soon!**

**Please leave your thoughts on this chapter, such as if you think Bella went too far, or how you think Edward will react.  
**

**I'm always interested on what you darling readers have to say, the good and the bad. **

**Thanks for the constant support and as always, a huge thank you to my life saving betas, Kaydee1005 and Twimarti. You ladies rock!  
**

**Live on,**

**KC  
**


	16. Precious Plans

**Disclaimer: SM owns Twilight and all characters belonging to Twilight. I just chuck 'em in a whore house.**

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**WARNING: This chapter has *strong* language and violence. If you know you won't like it, then please don't read. **

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**Chapter 16: Precious Plans  
**

_"_I've looked at life from both sides now,  
from win and lose, and still somehow  
it's life's illusions I recall.  
I really don't know life at all_." - Joni Mitchell_

* * *

I stared out from the bathroom window and into the street, watching the pink night glowing in the sky. I desperately wanted to run out of the house, just to taste the warm air. Instead, I was trapped inside.

As I stared outside, I cringed from the hollow feeling gaping in my chest. I was still waiting for him to come, for him to realize that he had me wrong.

When the street lights flicked on, a man immediately caught my attention. He was standing higher up the street, and as soon as I noticed him I recognized his face. It was the man from the library - not James - but the man who made me nervous. He was having a cig underneath the dim, orange-y light as I could see gray smoke clouding over his head. I wondered if he was a client...or worse – I wondered if he worked for James.

The second thought seemed much more plausible, but I should be safe...in the house. He didn't look threatening. _Christ! James hadn't seemed threatening, either. _

I couldn't stand to watch him any longer. My thoughts were progressively becoming more paranoid. I retreated from the window and padded to my room. As soon as I shut my door, I exhaled a deep breath.

"It's all the booze and drugs that's making you like this," I whispered to myself. As much as they numbed me, they weren't doing any good.

Everything felt upside down since Sam and I were together. I didn't tell Rosalie what had happened between us. She was doing so well, and there had been no more smack. I knew she was having a few crafty joints, but as that saying goes, "Rome wasn't built in a day."

Just thinking about how she'd react about me and Sam made me feel ashamed. She would be mortified. When she found out the first time around, she didn't speak to me for a week, which doesn't sound long, but when you don't have many people to talk to it might as well have been a month.

Emmett will be back at the house tonight. He had been over a couple of times since I first met him, but I didn't stick around. The prospect of him arriving tonight after our last talk...well, it made me nervous.

When I started to prim my face, I already had a hand wrapped around a glass of something. I sat at my vanity table, just staring at myself in the mirror. I wasn't being vain, I just wanted to see if anything had changed since I was fifteen. I wondered if I looked older or if I was more alike to Rosalie now – all washed out and fragile.

I traced my index finger over the thin, white scar on my forehead. My eyes immediately clinched. I still can't believe how I had high hopes of leaving this shithole. I really thought it was going to happen, but looking back on it, I've never been so ridiculous.

"You still drinking?" I heard Lauren's shrill voice behind me.

"Yeah, so what? Are you still using?" I retorted. As I glanced back at Lauren, I noticed that she was dressed to the nines, wearing a scarlet mini-dress with a plunging neckline.

She scowled. "I know about you and Sam."

I was sure I'd be more rattled about her bringing that up, but the anaesthetized feeling was acting like a shield.

"So what?" I said, taking another mouthful of my drink.

She smirked. "You should see yourself."

"That's rich coming from you."

"You think sleeping with Sam will get you ahead?"

"What?" I shook my head, confused. She didn't respond, and I narrowed my eyes, demanding her to elaborate. Lauren's face was a picture of triumph, as if she knew everything there was to know about the world.

"It just happened," I insisted.

"Oh, really?"

Then, it clicked. "Wait, are you jealous?" I scoffed. I couldn't help but smile broadly – _she was jealous_. You couldn't ignore the way she cozied up to Sam at every opportunity.

Her expression changed. "Jealous of you? Next joke, please_."_

I raised myself off the chair and stumbled from the sudden head rush. _Shit._

"You're a mess, _kid_."

I strode toward her; my anger was white hot. "I'm the mess? That's rich coming from the girl who looks, acts, and _fucks_ like a dog." I paused and smirked. "The reason why Sam doesn't care for you is simple: if you sleep with dogs, you wake up with fleas."

She laughed again, acid dripping from the sound. "You're such a fucking hypocrite. You sleep with twice the men I do."

"You say it like I want to."

"We all don't fucking want to!" Lauren shouted.

It was like a bucket of ice had been chucked on my face, waking me from a long sleep. I didn't say a word, just tried to hold her stare while her eyes pierced through me.

"I know what you and Rose say about me, and shit, shoot me if I'm trying to keep up my clientele." I turned my face away. I hated to admit it, but I felt ashamed, and deep down I knew what she was going to say and it frightened me.

"I'm thirty, Iz. My career isn't going to last a lifetime."

"You have a stable clientele. You'll always have people who want you," I said weakly.

"That might be the case now, but I can't do this forever. Shit, it's not like I'm going to get a pension plan." She ran her fingers through her hair and then sighed. "The reason why I get close to Sam is because I want him to get my own career started."

I swore my eyebrows nearly crossed over. "You want to become a pimp?"

"A madam," she corrected.

Suddenly, the small piece of empathy that started to form had shattered.

"Why?" I demanded, "Why would you do _this_ to more girls?"

"Don't be fucking stupid, Iz. What else should I do?"

"Leave. Get a real job."

She punctured her fingers through the air and prodded me heavily on the shoulder. "Why don't _you_ leave and get a real job?"

I slapped her fingers off me. "I can't leave Rose!" I snapped.

She snorted. "If you think Rosalie's going to be around for much longer, think again."

"Fuck you!" I retorted. She was fucking wrong,_ so _wrong. I couldn't understand how in one moment she could seem so genuine and another such a heartless bitch. "Rose is off the H, which is more than I can say for you."

"I don't even use that much."

My cheeks blazed, and scalding tears flooded my eyes. "Why do you have to be such a bitch, Lauren?"

"Why are you such a miserable fuck? You could still be on the street. You should consider yourself lucky!"

I didn't even try to comprehend half of that sentence. "Oh trust me, I want to leave this place!"

"Fucking around with Sam isn't going to give you a queue jumping pass out of here."

I couldn't take her confession. Annoyed, I stomped out of the bedroom.

"Fuck off," I seethed, and I expected her to laugh once more or shriek a catcall, but instead she sighed, long and tired. At that moment, she sounded wiser beyond her years and reputation, and that scared the hell out of me.

I hurtled down the corridor into the bathroom and then slammed the hamper to the door.

I bit down hard on my knuckles. It was probably the alcohol that made me feel this way, since all I wanted to do was slouch on the floor and cry. Lauren was my future, and in my heart of hearts I knew that everything she said was true.

* * *

Emmett was downstairs. I heard the commotion of his arrival, and I was dancing around the landing, already drunk, but still...the nerves were there. They wouldn't go, and they transported me into this anxious state like the time my dad made me watched _Jaws _late on a Friday night.

But then I heard him say something about his brother, Edward. Even though I felt uncomfortable, I wanted to know what he was saying. I wanted to know how Edward was doing – was he good? Or was he still angry...or did he even care?

I crept down the stairs, making sure my weight on each step was well balanced so I didn't make too much noise. When I arrived in the main room, the creek of the door captured everyone's attention.

That included Emmett. I swear in that moment of my arrival I saw something in his eyes, something more soft and humane.

The attention was only on me for a mere second, and then dropped back to the floor. I noticed Billy was also there in his loud purple shirt that was a disgrace to humanity. I stumbled to the table and clutched my hand over a bottle of _Maker's Mark_.

_Better shit than the__ usual._

I felt a cold hand wrap around my wrist. "I made you a drink, babe," Sam purred in my ear.

My gaze averted to the tumbler of coke, which I presumed had something in it.

"Thanks," I said under my breath. I quickly grasped the cold glass and supped the drink.

"So what do you think, Sam?" I heard Billy's oily voice say. I cast my eyes toward the conversation. It was just Emmett, Sam and Billy talking, but Rosalie and Jessica were sprawled on the leather chair, smoking. Of course Lauren was in the background of the men, refusing to look at me, but also being ignored by everyone else.

"I'll take it," Sam exclaimed.

I swayed around, trying to figure out what they were talking about. Then, I saw what Sam had in his hand and my guts seized together.

"Nine-millimeter-hammerless revolver," Billy offered. "It'll do the trick nicely."

Sam gripped the gun confidently and then checked the chambers were loaded. He then pointed the gun straight at Rosalie.

Rosalie scowled. "Shit, Sam, put it down, it's not funny!" He pointed the revolver up, pursing his lips, making a high shooting sound.

"Sam, I wouldn't do that," Emmett cautioned.

Sam stared at Emmett skeptically. "Don't worry, bro. She knows I'm joking."

My pulse started to hammer, and I tried to slink out of the room. That cold gun brought back all those memories of the time I was mugged; those were the thoughts that I tried hard to banish to the darkest corner of my mind.

Sam caught my expression. "Iz, you look like you've seen a ghost. Drink up, and I'll tell you the plan."

I tightened my lips. I didn't want to hear a plan. I just wanted all this James shit settled without me knowing the details. Of course, it was never going to be that simple.

"Have you found James?" I asked, a little shaky.

Emmett didn't look in my direction, but he answered me, "Not since the last run in with him. I can say for certain he's one of Aro's guys."

I shook my head, trying to grasp why Aro would have something to do with this. Aro was the Sam of Port Angeles, or maybe it's better to say that Sam was the poor man's version of Aro. Aro had a better business head than Sam, and apparently his girls were more... 'upper class.' That's what Lauren once told me and Rosalie.

"So, somebody paid Aro to try and kill me?" I asked quietly. I hoped I was wrong, as the thought of being at the center of Aro's firing range seemed worse than James'.

Sam sighed. "It's got nothing to do with you, kid."

Those words prickled up my spine. How could he say that when I was the one being victimized?

I drained the rest of my drink, gritting my teeth on the glass.

"Sam, I don't want to continue this further," Emmett stated, clear as crystal.

A thick blanket of silence was in the air, and all you could hear was the rhythmic noise of breathing. I looked from Sam to Emmett; both had faces of stone.

Sam was the first to break the quiet. "Come on, bro. Don't bail on me."

Emmett rubbed his face, seeming more agitated by the second. The silence made me feel sick…or maybe it was the booze. I wasn't sure, but when I shut my eyes, it felt like my brain was oscillating in my skull.

"I didn't want to get mixed up in this shit. I'm through with it all. I've not been happy with the way it's been planned from the start, and most importantly, this isn't my life anymore."

Emmett's sharp words were the only thing keeping me focused. I was certain that he'd been rehearsing his little speech in his car mirror on the way to the house.

"Well fuck." Sam over-exaggerated the 'k'. "Don't help out then..."

"Look, Sam, I'm sorry. But you've really lost-"

"Don't give me that bullshit. You're not sorry!" His voice was as sharp as knives. "All those times I helped you out, gave you a home."

"Yeah, and I was just like these girls, Sam! When are you going to realize you can't live like this, you can't treat people like _this_!"

Everyone's attention was glued on the scene that was unfolding in the middle of the room. For the first time ever, Sam looked like he was being put in his place, and shit, he didn't like it.

"Fuck you then, bro! Go off and start a little family, and try to forget all those lives you ended. No – slaughtered." He smirked callously. "'Cause their families sure as hell will remember."

Emmett's fist tightened into a rock, and before anyone could clock what was happening, his fist flew into Sam's cheek. Just one hit, and Sam bowed over.

A rage so hot rippled over Emmett's face, and I involuntary shrunk to the corner of the room.

"You will never change, Sam. You will just sink lower and lower, and eventually it will all bite you on the ass, and nobody will care, you know why? 'Cause you're an evil, messed up cunt!"

Sam laughed under his breath; it was an ugly sound. "I guess I hit a nerve, didn't I, bro?"

Without a second's hesitation, Emmett kicked him in the chest while he was still crouched over himself. "I'm not your brother," he seethed.

He rubbed his hand through his hair and then finally acknowledged the room. Billy was standing at Sam's side awkwardly, while Jessica and Rosalie watched Emmett in mixed expressions of shock and admiration.

Emmett straightened up and strolled toward me. He had no happy smiles, but the rage he just underwent seemed to have slipped off. When he stood in front of me, I felt nervous, but also that friendly, hopeful feeling filled my lungs.

"I'm sorry I told Edward. I should have been more sympathetic." With that, he kissed me gently on the forehead. My lips parted as I stared up to his emerald eyes. I felt overwhelmed. Before he said that, my seams were bursting with respect for this man, but finding out it was him who told Edward gave me a sharp blow of anger.

He didn't wait for me to respond. The attack hadn't affected his energy, as he sauntered out of the room and passed Sam like he was nothing but air.

When he left, I noticed how all attention was on me.

"What was that about?" Billy interrogated curtly.

"Nothing," I answered.

Sam tried to compose himself, and he took a long, deep breath. "Couldn't any of you have had my fucking back?" he questioned us. His hands were locked together on the back of his head, and he started frantically pacing around the room, cursing aloud.

"I'm sorry, Sam," Lauren responded.

"I don't want to see your face, Lauren!" Sam shouted, "You have been fucking useless, _as always_."

Lauren's face crumpled and her lower lip quivered. It was evident she was trying hard to save face by that stony look in her eyes, however, her attempts weren't working.

"_Sam_," I chided.

His stern eyes cut into me as soon as I said his name. "Why was Emmett apologizing to you, Iz?"

I blushed profusely. "I've said it's nothing!" _Damn, everyone says that when their guilty. _

"Is something happening between you and him?" He charged toward me. "If that's the case, you have another thing coming!"

I stumbled backwards and felt the shock of the icy cold walls on my hot skin.

Rosalie stood up. "Come on, Sam. She says it's nothing." She grabbed hold of his shoulder, but as soon as she did, his face flinched. He spun around grabbed her by her hair.

"How about you keep your pretty face out of this?" he hissed through gritted teeth. Rosalie yelped as Sam aggressively shoved her back onto the couch. He then turned to me, his expression black.

My pulse quickened as he towered over me. I inhaled a deep breath and tried to keep my cool, but my head spun, and the room's bright light was just a blur in my vision.

"You know what, Iz?" he slurred.

"What?" I responded; my voice sounded weak.

"I'm glad."

"You're glad?"

"Yup." His breathy words struck my cheeks. "Now I'm not going to feel so bad when I tell you the plan."

I blinked and held my tongue. His dark eyes were cast upon my face, and the only thing I heard was Billy's leather shoes squeaking. "We're going to take a walk."

My eyes widened, and the thought of going outside conjured a familiar nauseating feeling. "I don't want to."

"I don't care!" he bit back. I gazed at the thick blood dripping like tears down his cheek, and I wished that it pained him. I dropped my stare and tried to walk around him, but my walk had turned into a clumsy stagger.

My actions triggered laughter in the two men; they obviously found my lack of stability entertaining. "Where do you think you're going, kid?" Sam teased. He stuck his arm out, blocking my way to the door.

"Sam, just leave her alone," Lauren intervened, sounding nervous herself.

"Shut up!" Sam countered back.

My head felt as if it was floating above my body. In fact, I experienced the same feelings as I did when I met James. I clutched my hand over Sam's arm, steadying myself.

"Please, Sam," I begged. "Just let me go to bed. I feel ill."

"Maybe there's something in the water," Billy piped up. This comment seemed to make the two collapse into laughter all over again.

"What do you mean?" I scanned the room, but none of the girls looked at me…except Rosalie. Her eyes were creased into guilt.

"I told him not to put it in," she said, speaking at a speed of fifty words per second.

My attention darted back to Sam, who was smirking like a boy who had just discovered porn on the internet. There was no shame on his face. In fact, he was the complete opposite – he was a picture of pride.

"Did you…" I tried to make sense of it all. "You spiked my drink?"

"No comment," he mocked. I didn't know whether I was furious or scared. If he had spiked my drink, then maybe James wasn't the one who had drugged me, and now that opened a whole new can of worms.

Sam's face suddenly stiffened. His eyes narrowed and his lips tensed into a stern line. "Now, I'm not going to ask you again, kid. Be good and come with me and Billy."

"Where are we going?" I asked desperately. Sam's brow lined together, and his hand tugged my wrist. The feeling felt a little like a Chinese burn as he started pulling me toward the door.

"Let go!" I screeched, digging my heels into the floor. Then, Rosalie's grabbed my shoulders, and she tried her hardest to pull me back into the room.

Sam's rage was instant.

He shoved me out of the way, jumped on Rosalie, and started beating her with his clenched fists. Rosalie screamed. I screamed. The sounds swelled through the air, scratching our eardrums.

But Sam didn't deter. His energy was never ending, fist after fist flying in the air and pelting her back to the ground. I scratched and pulled at his shirt, but his strength was overpowering, while mine had never been weaker.

I was wrenched backward by my hair, and I buckled into Billy. He locked his arm over my breasts, holding me back, making me watch a bloodied up Rosalie crying murder. Jessica cried on the leather sofa, her arms curled around her head. Even Lauren's hands shielded her eyes from the view.

"Get off her," I kept repeating. I struggled against Billy, but he laughed.

It felt like it had been hours, but in reality it was probably only another ten seconds until Sam finally stopped. Rosalie lay on the floor, moaning from the pain. Tears stung my eyes, but before I could yell anything at Sam he picked the gun from the table and pointed it straight in my face.

"Now get the fuck out!"

* * *

I scrunched up my fists, but every muscle shook unremittingly. Nothing had been said in the car, and Sam was skidding around bends like no tomorrow. I wondered where he was taking me. I had the worst feeling that I wouldn't survive this.

The night was black and the silver, fat moon was shining upon us. I'd never seen it this dark, but maybe that was because I hadn't left the house at night in a very long time.

"The fucker is following us," Sam stated. His voice made me jump.

"We're not even there yet," Billy complained.

We were driving off the freeway. I hadn't seen this place before, but then a sign passed the car reading 'Port Angeles.' Fuck, he was taking me to Aro.

That was when I started crying.

"Please, Sam. Please let me go back," I whimpered. I didn't give a shit about dignity anymore. I wanted my life.

Billy swivelled around with the gun. "If you don't stop crying I will shoot!"

My cries suddenly got stuck in my throat, and my hand flew to my mouth. Sam screeched around another bend, and then suddenly came to a halt.

"Get out!" he shouted at me.

I wanted to question him, but the words wouldn't leave my mouth. All I could see was the black barrel of the gun. I slid out of the door and stumbled onto the cool sidewalk. As soon as I did, the car drove off down the street and then suddenly turned into a motel parking lot.

The cold stung my skin, but I burned inside with anxiety. I was standing outside a run down gas station that had local concert promotions dotted over the windows. The street was empty, and I felt like a sitting duck.

It didn't take a mastermind to know the rough outline of Sam's plan. James would turn up, try and kidnap or kill me, and then he'd be in the perfect position for Sam's target practice. Sam won't care if he loses me in the process.

I'm just a pawn in his game, and that's all I've ever been to him.

_Bang_. I've never known I could scream at such high octaves.

A searing light came from the other direction. My survivor instinct kicked in as I scrambled backwards toward an old gas pump, and I cowered down to the ground.

_Bang._ Another shot broke into the air and shattered Sam's headlight.

I lost control. Of everything. Tears rolled down my cheeks, and a hot feeling trickled down my leg. Suddenly, there was an exchange of shots from two different directions. Sam was starting to retaliate, and it was like a swarm of fireflies was racing up and down the street. It didn't last for long, though. The screech of Sam's car broke through me.

He drove off.

I was alone.

My heart hammered so fast I was certain I'd pass out. Instead, I slumped over on the ground, paralyzed by fear.

I closed my eyes and tried to think of other times. Times before I left home, times with my mother, when I would watch her cook dinner and she'd give me little jobs to do. Or even better, when my dad used to take us out to eat at Johnny's and I'd always ask for the carbonara. My dad would always say,_ why do you always eat the same thing?_ And I would always reply, _Because I'll never be disappointed. _

_Why did I leave home? _

I heard tires creeping up the street, and I saw headlights shining against the concrete. I started to pray silently, because if there was ever a time to believe in God, the time was now.

A black car emerged, and I bit down on my lip so hard I nearly drew blood.

A window rolled down. "Isabella Swan?" A voice I'd never heard before asked me. It belonged to a male, and I calmed a little when the voice sounded smooth and non-threatening.

"Isabella, are you there?" the voice called again.

"Who is it?" I croaked.

"You need to get in the car. You're in a shit load of trouble."

* * *

**Dun, dun, dun!**

**Thanks for reading this far! I can't begin to tell you how floored I was from the feedback from my last chapter! You have no idea how much I appreciate your thoughts on my little fic.**

**A tremendous thank you to my two beta's Twimarti and Kaydee1005. You two women should take most of the credit for how this story is today!  
**

**So, Who do you think is in the car?**

**As always, I would love to know what you think and I encourage questions.**

**Take care,**

**KC  
**


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